


Fields of Gold

by mssdare



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Bodily Fluids, C-Section, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Implied Mpreg, In a way, Knotting, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of possible abortion, Mpreg, Of fuck or die variety, Omega Armitage Hux, POV Hux, Pregnancy, Protective Kylo Ren, Sex Pollen, Stranded, Sweet Kylux, Vomiting, mentions of past abuse by the Supreme Leader (Force Choking etc.), mentions of possible miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 04:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15965075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/pseuds/mssdare
Summary: Ren and Hux crash on a planet full of strange flowers. Soon, Hux starts feeling the effects of the pollen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Week 8: Wrap Me Up](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Week8WrapMeUp/profile)  
> of [KyluxXoXo Fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KyluxSummerFest2018) with words: rescue, warmth, omega.
> 
> Fuck or die / pollen with A/B/O dynamics and implied mpreg. Enjoy!
> 
> Thank you Sillygoose for the beta, [KTC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor) for listening to me whining and [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka) for cheering ;)
> 
> I'd also like to thank all participants of KyluxXOXO Summer Fest, and my co-mods :) It's been a BLAST!
> 
>  
> 
> [MOODBOARD for the story](https://78.media.tumblr.com/ccccf1f1c431c1698aa2c053cb96881b/tumblr_pewszlvir21rjuk46o1_1280.png)
> 
>  
> 
> NOW WITH ART by PangolinPirate commissioned for this story by Kyluxtrashcompactor (THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! <3)  
> [see ART on Tumblr](http://kyluxtrashcompactor.tumblr.com/post/178827417395/a-commission-from-pangolinpirate-for-mssdare-s)

_Fields of Gold_

 

Kylo could hear Hux’s murderous thoughts with so much clarity, it was as though Hux were speaking the words out loud.

He and Hux were alone on this fuck-all planet, floundering through a field of flowers that spread through the plains and up to the horizon. In the slowly setting sun, the flora looked like an ocean of uncanny creatures with many arms, undulating in constant motion. The plants had long, delicate stalks crowned with large bell-shaped white flowers, almost half translucent and gently lit from within with fluorescent light. They emitted a fine-grained luminous pollen that hung in the air and wavered in the mild wind like white fog made of fireflies.

Under different circumstances Kylo would probably appreciate this picturesque, if slightly psychedelic, landscape and would want to examine the plants and their pollen. But as it was he had to find a way out of this flower-desert and placate, _or suffocate,_ Hux before he drove Kylo insane with his perpetual inner accusations. Kylo could hear snatches of Hux’s ire: “lacking skills” and “terrible pilot” and “poor choice” of emergency landing zones.

As if Kylo’d had any options after the ship’s steering systems had blown to hell. Hux should be grateful for the Force field Kylo had produced and the soft flowerbed that dulled the impact of the crash in the end.

Besides, it was Hux’s fault that they’d found themselves on this nowhere planet, far on the Outer Rim. Hux had reviewed and accepted this mission. Now their ship had no steering whatsoever, a broken hyperdrive, and totally dysfunctional comms and datapads. Ren would even suspect _Hux_ of sabotage, if Hux hadn’t been so angry and surprised when all the main systems in the ship had shut down at the same time. Of course, Hux wasn’t the only person plotting the assassination of the new Supreme Leader. And many higher officers, especially those from the older generation, would benefit from Hux disappearing along with his Leader.

Kylo tried to trace back the stream of commands and requests that had led to him leaving on this trip with Hux alone. Now that he thought about it, it was odd and suspicious that no one had questioned why both the Supreme Leader and General had left the _Finalizer_ at the same time, together, and without any kind of escort, not even a single trooper to guard them. Or maybe it hadn’t been odd. After all, Kylo had undertaken many missions alone in the past. Or maybe, simply, no one had dared to question their Supreme Leader’s command.

No matter. Kylo was at least positive that the crash wasn’t the effect of Hux’s scheming mind, and that made him feel strangely glad.

For now, they had to find a way to communicate with the _Finalizer_ , and that required locating a space station on this odd planet, a working transmitter, or at least a living, sentient creature who would lead them to a means of communication.

Perhaps they should count the surrounding flowers as sentient beings, though; they seemed to lean slightly in Kylo and Hux’s direction as they pushed through the fields. The emission of pollen grew even more prominent with each step they took. It smelled sweet, syrupy even, and the smell intensified with every disturbance of a plant. Kylo felt his head spinning a bit, the scent making him itchy and dizzy, but also hot all over.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and Hux went around him, pushing Kylo’s shoulder in the process. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go!” Hux said, stomping through the flowers and rousing them to spread more pollen around them yet again.

Ren’s head spun harder. He breathed out, focused on finding his sense of direction, and followed Hux toward something grayish that loomed over the horizon and seemed to be a harvesting station of some sort.

 

*

The planet’s sun was almost set, the last red rays of it turning the flower fields into pink-tinged sparkling meadows, when Kylo and Hux finally reached the round shapes of a harvesting compound. Hux had been silent for the last half hour or so, clearly exhausted from their trek, but at the sight of _civilization_ he perked up.

“Finally,” he muttered in his haughty, snarky tone that both annoyed and amused Kylo. There weren’t any signs of life around them, though, and the five round buildings joined together by low connecting tunnels appeared to be abandoned—dusted over with pollen and dirt and long unused. Perhaps that explained the amount of flowers and pollen in the fields. Whoever had made a profit out of these mysterious crops was long gone, allowing the Force and nature to take over.

There was no transport to be seen outside. The nearby docking hangar was empty, filled only with old barrels of fuel and scraps of metal.

“Perhaps there’s still an operating communications system,” Hux said, without much hope in his voice, as they approached what looked like the compound’s main part. Like all the other building it was round, not unlike Luke’s house on Tatooine. Kylo stopped and gritted his teeth.

Hux glanced back at him, irritated. “Are you waiting for a host to invite us in? This is obviously deserted. Open that door so we can search for a comm. _Supreme Leader.”_

Kylo rolled his eyes. Hux really had no instinct for self-preservation, what with constantly trying to boss Kylo around and adding his title almost like an insult. He was too tired to play Hux’s games and prove his point, though, so he ignited his lightsaber and cut the lock off the door with one flick of his wrist.

Inside it was dark, and the stale air was thick with pollen. Kylo covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his tunic, trying to prevent the dust and dried pollen—or remains from the processing of it—from getting into his airways. His lightsaber cast a red glow, but it wasn’t bright enough to light up the place. Hux coughed and took out the emergency flashlight he’d packed from their ship. The strong white stream of light exposed a dirty floor, empty walls, and an open, rusty conservator. There was a broken bottle on the floor lying next to the conservator, and a shelving space that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be a pantry half-full of canned bantha meat, soy beans, and some kind of old-fashioned protein powder. At least there was food—something to supplement the nutrient bars they’d taken from their ship’s emergency kit.

Kylo turned off his lightsaber, reached to Hux, and extracted the flashlight from his hand. Hux’s fingers, usually cold, felt oddly warm, hot even.

“Stay here,” Kylo said, and with the flashlight in hand went on to explore other compartments of the structure. He had to bend almost in half to fit into a small corridor that led to another chamber. This space was smaller and less dusty. It was probably a sleeping space, as it hosted a low twin bed with a stained mattress and a metal closet filled with clothes that surely didn’t fit human anatomy. There was also a wooden basket next to the bed packed with rugs and blankets. Nothing useful.

Kylo moved to the adjoining tight space to find a fresher, equipped with a toilet and a shower. He turned the knob and, with a screeching sound, water spluttered into the sink and then stopped. It must need power to be pumped out of an underground well. Kylo examined the walls of the fresher and found a rusted, industrial switch next to the entrance. He pushed the lever up and, after a groaning echo, the power generator hummed to life and the whole place lit up with cracking ceiling lamps casting dull light. Good. Now they could explore the rest of the compound.

Unfortunately, Kylo’s investigation didn’t reveal anything of interest. There was a shed with replacement tools—presumably for the harvesting machine—and another structure housed a distillation lab, but there was no comm to be found. Kylo kicked an empty can in frustration. It rolled on the floor and hit the wall with a clang. A second later, a similar clang rang out from an adjoining space. It came from the place in the compound where Kylo had left Hux.

Gripping the hilt of his lightsaber, Kylo ducked into the corridor and went back to the entry room he’d left Hux in. In the center of the rounded space Hux sat on the floor, gasping.

“Hux?”

“Huh?” Hux looked up. His eyes were glassy in the flickering light of the malfunctioning lamps.

“What are you doing?” he asked, because he refused to question if Hux was okay.

Hux swallowed and scrambled to stand up. He straightened his uniform. “Nothing,” he said, with a bit of strain in his voice.

“So why were you...?” Kylo waved his hand and then shook his head. “Never mind. Come, have a look at the pieces of crap in the other room. Maybe you’ll be able to build a comm out of something.”

“I’m an engineer, not a wizard,” Hux huffed upon seeing the spare-parts room. “You can’t expect me to be able to whip up modern technology out of rusty spare parts for a harvester!” He wiped his forehead. “Stars, why is this place so hot?” He opened the flap of his uniform, something that Kylo had never seen Hux do before—his uniform had always been perfectly pressed and buttoned up. It revealed Hux’s neck, less pale that Ren would have expected. He looked up at Hux’s face; the General was quite flushed, too.

“It’s not hot,” Kylo said. In fact after the sun had set, the air around them, even inside the compound, had gotten icy cold.

“Well, I’m kriffing boiling.” Hux tugged angrily at his uniform and took off the jacket completely, then removed a padded blouse and a thermal long-sleeved undershirt. Underneath it all he wore a black tank top. His arms were very slim and white, dusted with golden freckles. Smooth. Kylo licked his lips.

Hux hung his clothes on one of the sharp teeth of a broken harvester cutter bar, and started puttering around the place in search of anything useful in the pile of spare parts. He kept muttering under his breath about pieces of junk and witchcraft, but he did place aside a few parts—a matrix, a spindle of wires, four huge thick glass bulbs, and a metal box.

For a while Kylo observed Hux’s search with interest, but eventually he got bored and turned to go out of the compound to check on the surroundings.

Outside the sky was dark, but the flower fields cast fluorescent light, moving back and forth like giant waves of white-green sparkles. It was unsettling but mesmerizing, and Kylo sat down on the ground with his back to the compound’s wall to watch this spectacle. He was tired, but he didn’t want to close his eyes. The flowers seemed to sing to him, beckon him, caress him with the Force. He reached out with his hand toward the field, and gasped when the shimmering pollen swirled toward him, as if reaching back. A ribbon of light flew closer and wrapped itself around Kylo’s arm. It was warm, gentle, tingling with Force. It whispered to Kylo, wanting him to follow its lead, _tugging_.

 _Come. Come,_ it said. Kylo got up and stepped into the field of flowers, letting the fluorescent light surround him, wrap him up, until he was lying down in this warm sea, relaxed, happy, free.

“Supreme Leader. Ren. Get up. Kriff, you’re heavy.” Kylo heard it as if through water. He felt something pulling him away from the field. “Stars, why do I always have to drag you out of something.”

They were back in the compound, cut off from the beckoning light of the flowers.

“Fuck,” Kylo said, when he felt his head clear. “This... These plants are something else, aren’t they? I think this pollen is stronger in the night.” He wondered if he’d ever wake up if Hux hadn’t dragged him out.

Hux leaned, half-bent, with his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths that caught in his throat a little. “No shit,” he managed in between breaths. He didn’t look like he could straighten back up. Beads of sweat formed on his arms and rolled down his skin. “I think—” He gasped. “I think I’ve breathed in too much of it now. What. What is this thing? I feel like...” He looked up at Kylo; his eyes were more terrified than Kylo had ever seen before, even more than when Kylo had choked him in Snoke’s throne room. “Is it _alive?_ It feels like it has crawled under my skin. Everywhere!” He patted at his arms and legs, as if trying to brush off non-existent ants.

“I...” Kylo started. He wanted Hux to calm down because his panic was seeping into Kylo, too. “No. But they certainly are strong with the Force.”

“The Force!” Hux spat out the word, and then sat heavily on the ground. He had to support himself with one arm not to collapse completely. “If this is how the Force feels... how do you bear it?” He shook his head. “Don’t tell me.”

As if Kylo could explain to this pariah how the Force felt. “Did you make any progress with the comm?” he asked, annoyed.

Hux shook his head. At least he wasn’t as panicked and crazed as seconds earlier. “Not enough. Because _someone_ had to decide to drown in the field of Force-wielding flowers. Kriff. I still can’t breathe. I need to... This. Hurts.”

It was odd to hear Hux talking explicitly about being unwell. Usually Hux endured anything painful or disgraceful in petulant silence. He had to be really shaken up to express aloud that he wasn’t at his best.

“Let’s…” Kylo waved, stopped talking, and swallowed. “Let’s just rest for the night, and you may work on the comm tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Supreme Leader,” Hux said, with as much poison in his voice as he could muster. “For letting me rest. Since saving your life _again_ has exhausted me.”

Honestly, sometimes Kylo didn’t know if Hux was mocking him or speaking seriously.

Kylo went to the fresher and splashed water on his face. With the generator on, the water flowed quite easily, if irregularly. It was cold and rust-colored but clear enough to drink. Kylo took a few long gulps. It tasted like metal but was refreshing anyway.

When he went out of the fresher he saw Hux curled up on the mattress in the bedroom, shaking underneath a blanket he must have dug out of the basket.

“I thought you said you were hot,” Kylo said.

“Yes.” Hux’s teeth clacked together. “But. I’m cold, too.”

Kylo kneeled next to the mattress and on impulse reached to put his hand on Hux’s forehead—something Leia had done whenever Ben was sick as a child. Hux flinched and moved away from the touch.

“I think you might have a fever,” Kylo said. Hux’s skin was clammy and hot to the touch. “Do you have any stims in the bag?”

“I already took some,” Hux gritted out. “Doesn’t work. Just. Let me sleep.”

Kylo nodded, turned off the main lights, leaving only an emergency panel on, and decided to lie down next to Hux. He didn’t sense anything dangerous in their vicinity—if one didn’t count the sentient flowers—so he reckoned keeping guard wasn’t necessary. He wouldn’t mind resting for a while, too.

It was cold, indeed, so Kylo dug around the basket in search of more blankets and crawled up onto the bed. Hux was asleep but still shivering, and without giving it much thought, Kylo scooted closer to him and wrapped an extra blanket around them both. Through the layers of cloth he could feel Hux’s skin, burning like a furnace.

*

Kylo woke up to a moan.

It was dark, the green of the emergency light not giving enough visibility. Next to Kylo, Hux was thrashing in his sleep, gasping and whining.

“Hux.” Kylo shook his arm. Hux’s skin was even hotter than before. “Armitage, wake up.” Another whine, but nothing more from Hux.

Kylo stood up to flick the lights back on. Hux looked feverish, his lips were parted and dry, skin red from the high temperature. “Do you have another stim somewhere?” Kylo asked, but didn’t get any answer. He went to dig inside Hux’s bag, checking for medical supplies. There was a syringe with a general anti-inflammatory and painkilling substance pushed in between boxes of bacta patches, and Kylo took it. Hux seemed not to notice the sting of the stim, but he stopped thrashing a few minutes after the shot. Whatever infection he’d gotten, Kylo hoped that the medicine would fight it by morning. He covered Hux with one more blanket and settled down behind him to sleep. He cursed when he realized that he’d left the lights on, and instead of getting up he sent a flicker of thought to the switch, turning it off with the Force. Hux would probably think Kylo lazy. But what did Hux know.

Next time Kylo woke up it was dawn. Silvery light was visible through a crack in the room’s heavy dura-glass windows. Hux was sleeping soundly after the shot, but he still was a little too hot to the touch.

“Hurts,” he mumbled in his sleep. “Don’t. Please.”

Kylo felt an unwanted sting of discomfort. Hux was probably dreaming of his Supreme Leader knocking him around, throwing him into walls, choking him with the Force. Which Supreme Leader, Kylo couldn’t tell. Kylo wanted to get up, get away before the images from Hux’s dream assaulted him, but the warmth coming from Hux’s body was too nice to get away from. Hux’s skin smelled pleasant, too, despite his fever and sweat—like warm stones, or the golden syrup Ben used to eat as a boy.

Hux whined and turned on his back. His legs opened a little and Kylo almost choked on the smell that reached him. Hux. Smelled. So. Good.

Kylo crawled closer to Hux and nuzzled into the back of Hux’s neck. Here the scent was even stronger. Intoxicating. Calling to Kylo not unlike the flowers outside had called to him earlier. Kylo felt his cock stir. He wanted to grab Hux, push him into the mattress, bury himself in this _heat_.

Now, that was... surprising. Perhaps the proximity to Hux’s overheated body had awoken something in Kylo. Not that he hadn’t noticed before that Hux was in a way _enticing_ —after all Hux was an unmated Omega, suppressants or not, and this had some effect on the primal instincts of Kylo’s Alpha nature. It hadn’t escaped Kylo’s notice either that Hux was quite attractive, with his red hair, sharp cheekbones, full lips, green eyes, and lean body. But Kylo had never considered Hux _approachable_ before. And even if he had, his advances wouldn’t have been met with appreciation, and this particular part of human interaction had been ingrained as compulsorily consensual into little Ben. Somehow this belief had stayed with him as Kylo Ren—violent he might have been, often cruel to others, including Hux, but he’d never imposed himself on anyone in a sexual way.

Now though—now Hux was almost in Kylo’s arms, and he seemed so _content_ with it. Kylo didn’t mind that one bit, either. In fact, he was very comfortable with it. With that thought, Kylo allowed sleep to take him away again.

*

Hux woke up in the morning a little more lucid, but whatever infection was consuming him must have hit him hard. He was still fighting the fever and he was clearly in pain—that much Kylo could guess from Hux’s quiet and careful moves and his gritted teeth. Kylo knew well the determined facial expression that Hux got whenever he was injured and not wanting to show it. Hux also hadn’t touched the ration bar that Kylo passed to him for breakfast. Instead, he’d taken the spare parts he’d assembled the previous night and set to building the transmitter.

There was no table, so Hux sat on the compound’s floor. It was weirdly disturbing to see Kylo’s always immaculate General in just his uniform pants and a tank top, sitting on a dirty floor, building something from dusty scraps.

Drops of sweat formed on Hux’s temple, and he wiped it with the back of his hand, leaving a gray smear on his cheek.

Kylo’s pulse rushed and, angry with his body’s urges, Kylo decided to leave Hux be and explore again, mindful of the beckoning flowers this time around. At least during the day their effects weren’t as potent.

He went into the distillation lab and dug around the shelves that were cluttered with vials, rubber tubes, and empty crates. Some of the crates were stamped with a distantly familiar logo of a three-leaf flower and a sign underneath.

 _F-lily, Inc._ The sign read.

 _Stars_. The reality dawned on Kylo like a hammer and made him chuckle out loud. This wasn’t a meadow of some unknown Force-wielding flowers. This was an illegal plantation of _Fellutian’s lilys,_ commonly known as _heat-inducing herbs_. 

Kylo wiped his face in amusement, trying to suppress his underlying horror. The amount of pollen used in a typical potion equaled, what, a tip of a teaspoon, and it was processed, dried and then distilled stuff. And they’d been trapped in the midst of _fresh_ fields full of _living_ pollen for two days now. They’ve been literally sleeping in it!

Being an Alpha, theoretically the pollen shouldn’t affect Kylo much; at worst it could make him horny, but he’d never heard of anyone being exposed to this amount and density of it. When he thought about it, Kylo did feel intoxicated a little, like after having a glass or two of strong wine.

But Hux—Hux was an Omega, and Kylo suspected that no suppressants in the whole Galaxy were strong enough to fight such an exposure to heat-inducing herbs. This wasn’t an infection. Hux was in heat.

 

*

“Heat?” Hux’s eyes were wide as saucers. He looked hot and disoriented. “That’s impossible. My suppressants—”

“Aren’t enough to ward off heat triggered by this density of pollen. Don’t you recognize the symptoms?”

Hux bit his lip, and Kylo could almost hear the cogs working in Hux’s brain as he reassessed himself. “I’ve been on suppressants all my life, so I wouldn’t even know what to look for,” Hux finally confessed tightly, trying to sound more offended than embarrassed.

Kylo knew that, of course. Heat and mating were closely regulated by the First Order, and none of the officers were allowed to succumb to the urges of their bodies. Besides, the First Order’s ideology was about making biology unimportant, not allowing it to determine the future of an individual. It was your potential that mattered, and modern medicine could make the starting point equal, no matter if you were born an Alpha or Omega. Still, General Brendol Hux’s son being an Omega must have been a disgrace, and Kylo believed that Hux’s life as an adolescent couldn’t have been easy. But whose was?

“Well,” Hux said. “This isn’t ideal, but it isn’t a catastrophe either, I suppose. After all, this is a natural occurrence. Omegas have suffered through _this,_ ” he motioned to his abdomen, “for centuries and survived without harm. I’ll just have to endure it for a couple of days and it will pass.”

“I guess,” Kylo said, not entirely convinced. But perhaps Hux was right. After all it was just heat, and, as Hux had said, it was natural, and it would pass. They would be fine.

*

They weren’t fine.

After a few hours of trying to work, Hux gave up and went back to bed, curling up there, shivering in fever and whimpering softly.

Kylo went outside, needing to escape from the cloud of Hux’s emotions that were _spilling_ all over the place, as well as from Hux’s scent. Now that Kylo knew what that smell was, he was unable to not look at Hux as a potential mate, to not desire him. The urge to chase Hux, grab him, make him _Kylo’s_ was getting increasingly strong and aggravating. It was suffocating.

Kylo busied himself with plundering the compound’s storage rooms, discovering pieces of a droid that perhaps could be assembled together. Kylo wasn’t as good at mechanics as he’d heard Vader had been, but he wasn’t the worst either. A functioning droid would perhaps give them more intel on the planet’s resources, although Kylo suspected that the strong Force field emitted by the herbs was making all complex technology useless. He’d already gathered that the plantation had been run by a sentient but not human species, certainly not one that could be subject to Alpha/Beta biology, and that it was run in an archaic style, with mechanical harvesters and simple droids, and no modern tech whatsoever.

Kylo considered going back to their ship for more spare parts, but that would mean walking back through the flower fields, and he wasn’t looking forward to being swept away by the Force of it again. Not to mention that the thought of leaving Hux alone made something dark and possessive rise up in his chest. After a few hours of useless tinkering with the droid, Kylo gave up and went back to check on Hux.

*

He found Hux thrashing on the bed, scratching at his arms and legs. His skin was already red and raw from fresh scrapes.

Kylo gripped Hux’s hands. “Hey. Armitage. Stop this.”

“I have to... My insides burn. It hurts so much.” Hux was practically sobbing, trying to pull his hands out of Kylo’s grasp. Kylo had never seen him like this. Could it be really that bad?

He dove into Hux’s mind, just a little bit, only to recoil and almost hit the back wall. This—this couldn’t be normal heat. This was _agony_. Kylo could barely breathe out of pain, and he’d only dipped his toes—so to speak—into Hux’s sensations.

He brought Hux water, placed a wet cloth on his forehead, and then curled up next to him, hoping that the smell of an Alpha, having an Alpha care for him, protect him, would make Hux feel better. He already knew it was a lost cause, though. Hux was literally burning, and Kylo had an inkling that Hux wouldn’t survive this heat, at least not without getting away from this planet and the influence of the pollen.

*

Another day passed. Hux’s moments of clarity were getting rarer and more spread out. He stopped communicating with Kylo. He refused water or any kind of nourishment. He didn’t even whimper anymore. He just lay there in the dirty blankets, curled up on himself, breathing in short, ragged breaths. His skin was dry and pale, grayish even. A wet spot of slick spread between his legs, staining the bed.

It should have been disgusting to see the immaculate General Hux debased like that, but to Kylo he was the most enticing creature in the whole Galaxy, and Kylo had to remind himself that this was just biology fucking with his head, that Hux didn’t in fact desire him, and that he didn’t want Hux this way either.

At night the flowers outside called to Kylo again, but he didn’t care about their lure anymore. He just wanted Hux’s agony to end. He was so attuned to Hux now, that he didn’t have to even try to sense what Hux was feeling. Waves of pain and desire hit him over and over, as if he were the one experiencing them firsthand.

Kylo was no stranger to torture. He’d been a subject of Snoke’s punishments many times in the past. He’d tortured people himself. But this? This was beyond what even he could imagine.

Hux was going to die of this if something wasn’t done soon; Kylo was sure of it. They needed to find a way off this planet, a way to get Hux to a medical center with modern technology. Perhaps somewhere nearby, on another planet in the Outer Rim maybe, there’d be treatment for Hux, someone who’d be able to tame this heat, or make it bearable at least. Kylo crouched next to Hux and held a can of water to Hux’s lips, but Hux didn’t want to drink.

“What can I do?” Kylo thought he sounded desperate, perhaps hysterical even. He lay down next to Hux again and wrapped himself around Hux’s slight frame. _Stars_ , why did Hux still smell so good, even when he was dying. Kylo couldn’t think when he was this close to him, but he knew that his closeness made Hux feel a little better. He nuzzled into Hux’s neck and realized that he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He licked Hux there, and then licked again. Hux strained.

“Fuck me.” Hux’s voice was so low, so small and broken, that Kylo wasn’t sure he’d heard him right.

“What?” Kylo pushed himself up to look at Hux.

“This...” Hux looked at Kylo, begging, and licked his lips. There was a crack on his chapped upper lip that opened and bled a little. Kylo wanted to lick it clean. “This should help, shouldn’t it? Isn’t that how it works?”

“Yes.” Kylo pressed himself back to Hux. His eyes burned. “This is how it _should_ work. But we don’t know if it can help in this case—I’ve never heard of anyone being under the influence of _Fellutian’s lilys_ for this long.”

“Then I’ll die on this cursed planet, but at least I’ll have something out of it.” There was bitterness in Hux’s voice and also a hint of despair, but most of all he sounded resigned.

Kylo tried to untangle the muddle of emotions, but probably Hux himself didn’t understand what he was feeling. There was fear and desire and hatred and even more desire hitting Kylo in waves.

“Is this what you really want? Would you want this if we weren’t here? If you weren’t like _this_?”

“But this is the point, Ren. We are. I am.” Hux turned away and added softly, “Just fuck me.” His voice wavered. “Please.”

Kylo closed his eyes, to think, to consider this without looking at Hux, without getting confused by the spiral of Hux’s emotions. But honestly? What else could he do. “Okay,” he said, reaching to push Hux’s hair back from his face. “Okay.”

Kylo started undressing. He knew what he was doing—more or less. He’d had sex before, even if it had never been with a human man, but Twi’lek women. It had been good, nice, sweet even, but it had also happened when he was Ben, not Kylo, which meant that it happened _years_ ago. But people did this every day. This was an instinct. The most natural thing. He couldn’t go wrong.

He slipped under the blankets naked and wrapped himself back around Hux, who was so warm, so pliant in Kylo’s arms. Kylo had imagined that they could be very businesslike about it—in, out, be done with it, but as soon as he brought Hux even closer to himself he knew this would not go how he’d thought.

When Kylo reached between Hux’s legs to slip off his damp briefs, Hux emitted a sound that Kylo was sure would stay with him till the end of his days. Something on the verge of gratefulness, anticipation, and need so great, _need for Kylo_ , for Kylo only, only him in the whole Galaxy. Kylo wanted to run his hands over Hux’s overheated skin, to map his slim body, kiss and lick every part of Hux’s arms, legs, stomach, back. He wanted to take his time, explore Hux thoroughly, but at the same time he felt that urgency—coming from Hux or maybe from himself—to just claim Hux, bury his cock in Hux’s ass up to the hilt, fuck him hard, unload inside of him, and fill him up with Kylo’s seed to the brim, mate him, _impregnate_ him, make him Kylo’s forever.

He had to calm down. Take his time. He stroked Hux’s calves, and then his thighs. There was so much slick, so much of it. Hux probably didn’t even need to be prepared. Kylo wanted to scoot down and eat it all out, lick Hux clean, but in Hux’s fuzzy thoughts he could hear only “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” and the waves of craving coming from Hux were almost enough to knock Kylo over. Perhaps he could take things slow later. And why was Kylo even thinking about later?

Hux was still pliant in Kylo’s grip—he let Kylo maneuver him as if he were a doll, limbs adjusting willingly to how Kylo wanted him. Kylo positioned Hux on his side so he could keep his arms wrapped around him, but held Hux loosely enough to let him know that he could move away if he needed to. Oh, how he wanted to pin Hux down, bite him, fuck him into the mattress. But this was good too. He brushed Hux’s hair again and bit his neck lightly, not deep enough to leave a mark, but Hux stilled.

“Ren,” he begged again, but calmer now, as if his body relaxed in anticipation of the inevitable and stopped hurting so much.

Kylo positioned himself between Hux’s legs, the slick making it easy to direct his cock into Hux’s entrance, and pushed in.

 _Stars_. Was Hux tight. Hot. Wet.

Hux whined.

Kylo caught a glimpse of something strong and dark—a hint of pain, and Hux gritting his teeth in silence. But the memory faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving only _Yes and So good_ behind.

Kylo pushed in further.

“Yes,” Hux whispered. He sounded broken but awed— _happy_. “More.”

“I can’t. Hux, stop pushing. I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”

Somewhere in the frantic craze Hux was in, he looked incredulous, angry even. “Sure,” he said through clenched teeth. “Whatever you say. Supreme Leader.”

Kylo stopped and backed up for a moment. He felt something like black ice spreading through his body. Obviously, he was aware that Hux wouldn’t have had sex with him if it weren’t for the situation they were in, but he hoped to hell that Hux didn’t feel inferior and at Kylo’s mercy.

He was halted in his musings by Hux’s urging whine. “Ren. Please. Come _on_.”

“Okay,” Kylo muttered.

 _They’d get through this_ , he thought. _He’d just fuck Hux back to normality and Hux would build a comm and they would be back on the Finalizer in two cycles tops. Or even if Hux didn’t manage to make a transmitter, Kylo would be able to focus and meditate and, with the help of all the Force that those flowers emitted, he’d contact someone. Rey. His mother. Whomever. He wouldn’t let Hux die on this kriffing planet._

He didn’t understand where this sudden concern for Hux came from. Perhaps he’d grown used to the little fox, or perhaps this planet was making him lose his mind, too, making him mad with the urge to protect his potential mate no matter what. Maybe sleeping in the field of flowers had addled his brain.

When Kylo was buried totally inside Hux, panting over him, Hux turned his head and their gazes locked. It felt like Galaxies clicking together, like finding the most precious artifact, like centering oneself in the Force. Like the whole Universe stopped in this sacred moment.

Kylo didn’t even know when he started moving again. His thrusts were long and slow; he wanted to cherish this moment, praise it, worship Hux and Hux’s body.

Hux wriggled and somehow it made Kylo thrust even deeper, so deep that Hux moaned out loud and then couldn’t keep quiet when Kylo started to fuck him hard and fast, with abandon. He pushed back, wanting Kylo deeper, and then cried out. Kylo felt him shudder with orgasm in his arms. The smell— _stars_ — _the smell!_ It was what pushed Kylo over the edge, too, and for the first time in his life he felt his knot swell on his cock inside of a partner, locking Hux in place, who stilled totally in Kylo’s arms, some Omega atavism making him immobile lest he hurt himself when his Alpha was knotting him.

“Oh fuck,” Kylo breathed out. His cock was pulsing with release, over and over, and over, and he was shaking with the knot settled deep and steady inside Hux.

“Kriff,” Hux said. There was appreciation and fear in his voice. “It’s so... I’m so full. Ren, don’t move.”

As if Kylo could. They were locked so tightly that even if Kylo wanted he wouldn’t be able to move, even an inch. He held Hux and licked his skin, on the shoulder blades, at the nape of Hux’s neck, on his ears, cheeks—everywhere he could reach. “You’re beautiful,” he said. It just spilled from his lips. “ _Mine_.”

Hux shuddered again—and Kylo wasn’t sure if Hux was laughing or was affected by the laving of his tongue, but it felt good nonetheless.

At some point they must have fallen asleep, joined together like this, because when Kylo opened his eyes later, it was to Hux fidgeting in his arms. The knot has dissipated enough for Kylo to slip out. Everything between them was wet and sticky with slick and release.

Hux sounded... _miserable_ again.

The mystic glow of the flowers was bright from outside the window, so it had to be the middle of the night.

“Are you all right?” Kylo asked, voice groggy from sleep. He didn’t feel the overwhelming suffering coming from Hux anymore, but the want was there still. “Do you need me to bring you anything? Water? Or maybe something to eat?” After all, Hux hadn’t touched food in the last three days, and he was likely dehydrated, too.

“No.” Hux said. “No. But...” He turned to face Kylo and scooted closer, his erection digging into Kylo’s thigh. It was obvious what he wanted.

“Oh,” Kylo said. “Okay. Come here.”

He tugged on Hux’s arm and then rolled on top of him. Hux was still wet and hot, the slick making everything slippery and soft.

Hux clawed at Kylo’s back violently, trying to bring him closer, to urge him to fuck him fast, but Kylo thrust into him unhurriedly, deeply, with a kind of reverence. Outside the flowers seemed to be content with them, singing in Kylo’s head with joy and encouragement.

When the knot held again, Hux gasped and opened his eyes. The light reflected in them was as fluorescent, green and beautiful as the flowers, and Kylo couldn’t help himself—he leaned in and kissed Hux, soft and deep, needing to convey to Hux how gorgeous he was, how amazing, how perfect for Kylo. And not only in this very moment, but always, _always_.

Hux seemed to get it somehow. Maybe it was spilling into him through the Force. He met Kylo halfway with kisses that tasted like a promise of something good, of some life that they didn’t know or deserve.

“Yes,” Hux whispered. He cupped Kylo’s cheek with his hand, caressing the stubble there with his fingers. He kept looking into Kylo’s eyes until something shifted between them, some greater energy tied them together.

Kylo started coming, the knot keeping him in place, locking him with Hux for hours again, until Kylo was squeezed dry and had no seed to give anymore. Only then did Hux close his eyes and let Kylo lick away the tears that spilled down his cheeks.

*

It was morning, or maybe another afternoon. Kylo was exhausted, more than he’d ever been in his life, and that was saying something, but despite it, or maybe because of it, he couldn’t drift off to sleep. He observed the soft, finally peaceful rise and fall of Hux’s chest, and listened to his soft breathing.

Hux looked sated and relaxed in his sleep—younger, sweeter, _happy_ even.

Kylo let himself imagine a world that would allow him to have _this_ : no one wanting his death, no one looking for him, no one wanting _anything_ from him. A little house on a distant planet, a mate to come back to after a day of harvesting Force-sensitive flowers. It was a childish, naive dream, of course, and he knew that even if the Galaxy wasn’t set on making Kylo its plaything, he and Hux would kill each other after just a few weeks of such an “idyllic” life. But it was nice to dream about forgetting the horrors of power, of fight and struggle, and what a little piece of shit Hux was.

Something flickered and tugged on Kylo with the Force. At first he thought it was the flowers’ influence again, but it was coming from Hux—from Hux’s insides. Kylo could—oh Force—he could feel _life_ taking hold, like a spark of a little sun.

Kylo hung his head, letting his forehead rest on Hux’s, and breathed in the air Hux was exhaling out through his half-parted lips. Kylo’s heart was breaking into thousands of pieces. His soul was shattered. He might have recovered after his parents abandoned him, after Luke’s betrayal, even after Han’s death from Kylo’s own hand, but he would never recover from _this_. He was already mourning his loss. Hux would get rid of this problem as soon as they reached civilization and Kylo couldn’t do a thing about it.

*

In the morning Kylo woke up alone in bed. The blankets smelled of their mating but were already cold, so Hux must have gotten up sometime earlier. Kylo stood, wrapping one of the blankets around himself to keep the cold of the dawn away, and peeked into the main room. Hux, washed and dressed in his full uniform, sat by a makeshift desk made from crates, and worked on the communicator. His face was calm and pale, jaw set in determination. Upon seeing Kylo he glanced up and nodded in greeting.

“Supreme Leader,” he said.

Gone was the perfect way of gasping out “Ren.” Kylo wanted to scream at Hux, to grab him and shake him, make him need Kylo again. Instead he turned and stomped over to the fresher to scrub himself clean of Hux’s smell. As if it were possible.

Kylo’s hands were shaky, his vision swimming, and the vacuum of despair sucked at his insides painfully. He wanted to shout in anger, he wanted to annihilate this place, this planet, this whole fucking Galaxy. With a furious cry he punched the wall and then punched it again, and again, until he felt centered enough by the pain and the destruction of the compound’s structure that he could breathe again.

He washed himself, darkly enjoying the sting the metallic water left on his scraped hand, and dressed back in his clothes. He could be civilized about it. He could be all right about it all.

To busy himself, and not go crazy from still wanting Hux so fucking much, needing Hux, wanting to have Hux again and again, while Hux was so indifferent, Kylo started preparing a meal out of the bantha meat and some of the other canned goods he’d found. Perhaps he was pathetic and obvious, trying to provide for his mate—even though Hux _wasn’t_ really his mate—and for the little life growing inside of Hux, a life that would soon be expurgated, but he couldn’t help himself. When he was done he all but threw a bowl of food in front of Hux and stood above the General until Hux started eating.

“It’s good,” Hux said after taking a bite.

Kylo sat opposite him on an upturned crate. “Yeah?” he asked, suppressing a smile.

“Yes,” Hux answered, looking down. He was smiling a little, too.

 

*

A few hours later the comm beeped and flashed a green diode.

 

*

Kylo wasn’t surprised when right after landing on the Finalizer, Hux headed straight to medical. He didn’t know—how could he without the Force—but he might have suspected that biology was biology and that being in heat, being knotted by an Alpha, might end in pregnancy.

Hux didn’t even look back, didn’t say anything, not even a vicious remark, didn’t grant Kylo even a head nod—nothing. He just followed droids and troopers from the rescue team, and Kylo stood in the busy hangar thinking that none of this—the ships, the Army, fighting the Resistance, finding Rey, having power or ruling the Galaxy—none of it was important anymore. Not when he could see Hux’s straight back as Hux walked briskly to the medbay.

Kylo turned and barked to the nearest troopers, “Prepare a ship for me.”

He wouldn’t stay here on the Finalizer. He didn’t even care about finding out who had been responsible for their ill-fated trip in the first place—he’d let Hux deal with it.

He didn’t listen to questions being asked, to protests and doubts of his people. He typed in the first coordinates he could think of and launched from the hangar. It didn’t matter where he was going, just as long as he was as far away as possible, so he wouldn’t feel this life being extinguished. No matter where, but as far as possible from Hux, even if it felt as if half of Kylo’s soul was being ripped from him.

_Curse the Galaxy for taking everything from Kylo again—every single thing that he’d ever loved. Curse it all to hell._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the wait! Unfortunately, I'm a very slow writer and I agonise over words in edits, and real life isn't helping things either ;)
> 
> But here we are - with Hux. 
> 
> Please mind the additional tags and warnings for this chapter. Even though this is as sweet as Kylux goes.
> 
> Thank you Sillygoose for being my beta. 
> 
> And much love to [saltandrockets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandrockets/pseuds/saltandrockets) for prereading this and for Twitter encouragement and for the unconditional love for pregnant!Hux and Solo/Hux family.
> 
>  
> 
> There's a moodboard for this chapter [HERE](https://66.media.tumblr.com/0aaa6a30c28260c06ee203430c5fbb0f/tumblr_piifxobB4c1rjuk46o1_1280.png)  
> 

 

Armitage closed the lid of the toilet seat and laid his cheek on the cold surface of the gray steel. He’d get up and go back to his post any moment now, he really would. He just needed a while longer to rest.

It’d been eight standard Galaxy weeks since he and Ren had come back from that fated trip, and Armitage had spent the last two of those weeks more often on his knees in front of the toilets than on the command bridge. And it was getting worse. Perhaps there were ways to ease this constant nausea, but he refused to risk a visit to the medical bay.

He’d wiped the memory of the droid who had examined him upon arrival. The droid had beeped at him, distressed, wanting to administer the required substance that would prevent the fertilized cell from further development. But Armitage, for reasons that still eluded him, had decided that he’d deal with that “later,” and it just so happened that “later” had not yet arrived.

Had Ren been on board the Finalizer, Armitage most probably wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter. But Ren had vanished right after their arrival, so Armitage had just asked the medical droid to give him a shot of nutrients and vitamins, as well as a mild painkiller, and had gone to sleep. And sure, under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have allowed himself any rest. He still needed to conduct an investigation to determine who had been responsible for the sabotage of their ship. But he’d been so damn tired and confused, he’d just wanted to close his eyes for a bit and forget about everything—about being stranded on that monster of a planet with Ren, about all the pain, the absolute certainty that he’d been dying, about the moment Ren had _impregnated_ him, and how it had felt so falsely perfect at that time. And mostly he’d wanted to forget about the disdain in Ren’s eyes after arrival, right before Ren had abandoned the Finalizer with Armitage on it.

Weeks later, after hours upon hours of data examination, Armitage still didn’t have even a single suspect for the sabotage. If he believed in magical nonsense, he would say that some transcendental Force had captured them and led them to the fields of _Fellucian Lillys._ Ren would probably embrace this ridiculous theory. But Ren wasn’t here. Actually, Ren had yet had to return to the Finalizer. Most probably, he hadn’t even wanted to look at Armitage, too disgusted and embarrassed to be near him. Instead, Ren had been giving his command orders remotely, from who knew where, most often not even through a direct holo, but using secured transmissions with prerecorded voice messages.

Someone knocked on the fresher door and Armitage cursed. He didn’t want to be caught here and exposed as _weak_ , succumbing to some lowly bodily failure, but he didn’t think he could get up just yet. Hopefully, whoever was rudely banging at the door would go away if Armitage kept quiet long enough. Although that hope had never proved right for Armitage in his Academy days.

Another wave of nausea twisted Armitage’s guts and he pushed the lid up to dry heave. There wasn’t really anything he could throw up at this point. He didn’t remember when he’d last kept a meal down. The only thing he could stomach, more or less, was rationed dry salty crackers and sour orange fruit that hurt his irritated gums. He pushed himself up, washed his face and rinsed his mouth, then took one of the crackers out of his pocket and leaned against a wall, munching on it. He’d learned that keeping his stomach at least a little occupied right after throwing up would help with the morning sickness for the next couple of hours.

 _Morning_ sickness… more like _permanent_ sickness. He laughed humorlessly and winced because the corners of his mouth were cracked, his tongue was swollen, and his whole mouth hurt after days of vomiting acid. _Pregnancy glow_ his ass. He really should head straight to medical and get this problem _out_ of him. Be himself again. Without a parasite robbing him of health.

He couldn’t understand what was stopping him. Having a child would ruin his career—ruin _him_ , his whole life, completely.

For a while he entertained the thought that he could have leverage over Ren, control him through this, but Ren surely didn’t want _a baby_ any more than Armitage did. Pregnancy wouldn’t even provide Armitage with immunity from Ren’s violence, being choked or thrown around; if the legends about Darth Vader were true, he’d killed his very pregnant wife without batting an eye. And they said Vader had loved her.

No. Ren would murder Armitage if he knew that Armitage had kept the pregnancy so far. It was best that the Supreme Leader had no idea about the current situation. Hux didn’t want this baby either, so there was no reason to dwell on it anyway.

 

*  
Another three weeks later, Armitage woke in the middle of the Gamma shift with a deep sense of dread. His quarters were illuminated by a gentle night-light, but for a moment he couldn’t see anything but shadows. He was drenched with sweat. His abdomen was tender, dull cramps twisting his insides in irregular intervals. He rolled on his side and placed his hand over his stomach.

This pregnancy was a problem. He shouldn’t—couldn’t—keep it. But as another cramp made him wince, the thought of losing this… potential baby… made his eyes burn with tears. He couldn’t understand his own emotional reaction. Miscarriage would be, well, not ideal, but potentially convenient. It meant that Armitage’s body was taking action for him since he was too busy to do it. He’d made up his mind long ago and just hadn’t found the right time to proceed with the termination, what with the transports of new Troopers and repairs being made in the ship’s main reactor and diplomatic talks with the merchants of the Unknown Regions. He knew that the passage of time was not in his favor. If he didn’t miscarry, and if he didn’t hurry to terminate… To even consider keeping the baby was insanity, and he snarled at himself for thinking of it briefly.

Still, Armitage cried himself to sleep, something he hadn’t done since he was a boy, curled up at night in a cold part of a ship with his stomach cramping from hunger.

At the start of the Alpha shift he was up and ready for duty, although still in slight pain.

“Sir?” an officer asked. Lieutenant Orega, Armitage reminded himself. “Forgive me for asking, but are you well?”

Armitage bristled. He thought he’d done a decent job of hiding his indisposition so far. Maybe his red eyes were giving him away.

“I appreciate your concern, but it is misplaced. I’m all right.” He would make sure to transfer this overly perceptive lieutenant to another ship as soon as possible.

He felt dizzy. The smells from the canteen were strong enough to reach the bridge, and Armitage took out a ginger root candy from his pocket to chew on discreetly. He hated that his hands shook a little while he placed the pink square on his tongue. He’d ordered the candies from a luxury-goods supplier, since he’d read that ginger was supposed to ease nausea, but he’d yet to notice any effects. It tasted vile, too: overly sweet and spicy. He’d had to place the candy in a metal tin for caf-pills to pretend he was just using mild stims to keep himself hyper-focused.

He was cold, but pangs of heat made him almost throw up at the lieutenant’s feet. The ache in his abdomen intensified. Sweat formed on his temples and back. The ship was buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, and before Armitage could do anything about it he was on the floor and the lieutenant was calling for medical.

“No,” Armitage gasped out. “No need.” His head was swimming. The buzzing wouldn’t stop. With his last bit of strength he pushed himself up and marched off the command bridge, as steady and dignified as he could.

Back in his quarters he sat on the bed, catching his breath like a fish thrown out of water. He took his comm and messaged Peavy to fill in for him on the command bridge today, as he had other urgent matters to attend to.

“Yes, sir,” came the reply, and Armitage hoped that his sudden weakness, followed by an absence from work, wouldn’t be a cause of gossip.

He curled up on the bed and fell asleep again, despite it being only mere hours since he’d woken up.

*

The shrill of a ringtone and red light of a transmitter woke Armitage up some time later. He was disoriented from sleeping outside of his scheduled rest cycle, and for a moment he was under the impression that he was back on that crazy planet with Ren cuddled behind him, kissing Armitage’s neck and whispering nonsense about Force connections.

“Hux? General!”

So it wasn’t a dream. Ren’s voice was present, it was just coming from a holo-call.

“Supreme Leader.” Armitage pushed himself up. There was no use trying to look presentable—he was in a sweaty, wrinkled uniform, with mussed hair and most probably orange scruff forming on his cheeks and jaw. “How can I be of service?” he asked, addressing Ren as if he were a king. Swallowing thickly, he wished the nausea away.

“Are you sick?” Ren asked.

“No, Supreme Leader.”

“You weren’t on the bridge when I needed to contact you.”

Of course, Ren would choose the exact moment Armitage was absent from the command bridge to make a live holo-call. Ren’s eyes over the transmission were impossible to read, and the peculiar cadence of his voice made it even harder to determine whether Ren was angry or irritated, or just himself.

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Armitage said, and because he was tired and nauseated and angry, and maybe also a little cruel, he added, “I had to take care of _the little problem_ you left behind after helping me so generously to get through the heat.”

Ren looked as if he’d been stricken. He blanched and then averted his face from the holo projector. If Armitage didn’t know better, he’d say that there were tears in Ren’s eyes. Perhaps he’d wanted… Armitage couldn’t think what it was that Ren wanted.

Finally, Ren swallowed hard and said in a strained voice, “Very well.” He swallowed again. “Take another shift off to rest.” Ren’s eyes resembled black pits, and for a moment Armitage was under the impression that a thick black cloud had spread over the whole Galaxy.

“I expect you to be back in service the day after tomorrow,” Ren added, and before Armitage could reply, he disconnected the holo-call without mentioning what he had actually messaged for.

Armitage would dwell on the call, only he was dragged to the fresher by another wave of nausea. The cramping in his stomach had stopped. He didn’t know what to make of it.

He lay down on the floor, looking up the ceiling’s bright lights and breathing through his nose, and he couldn’t help but place a hand over his abdomen and cry again. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and fell into his ears. He covered his eyes with the back of his hand and allowed himself this moment of failure, sobbing on his fresher floor. Kriff—he was so confused. He couldn’t understand what was happening. His rational mind urged him to terminate. He refused to ruin his career, the life he’d worked so hard to achieve. It made no sense. And yet…

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck it,” he said aloud.

He might as well proceed with termination right away, now that he’d informed Ren about it.

He called for a medical droid.

“All is well, General,” the droid informed him cheerfully, over an ultrasound. “The fetus is approximately eleven weeks gestation, and from the medical point of view everything is in perfect order. Here, let me switch this up for you so you can hear the heartbeat.”

A low set of rapid sounds like a herd of galloping Falthiers filled the space.

“But. I had some cramps earlier,” Armitage said. It was hard to focus while listening to the gallop.

“It’s physiological. Sometimes cramps appear, but I don’t see anything that would be alarming. To be safe, it would be prudent if you took a few days off and rested in bed.”

Hux took a breath. “And—hypothetically—were I to terminate?”

“It is of course possible, General, if that is your wish. As you know, if the fetus is healthy and there is no risk for the carrier, abortion is legal in our Organization up till the twelfth week of pregnancy, which means the final call is very soon. After that, special permission from your commanding officer is required, so in your case that would be Supreme Leader Ren himself. Would you like me to prepare an official note to Supreme Leader Ren?”

“There’ll be no need, thank you,” Armitage said quickly. He closed his eyes for a moment. All the years of getting where he was now: the battles for power, dark nights at the Academy, humiliation, pain, blood on Armitage’s hands, sacrifices he’d had to make in order to be _someone_ , to rule, to build his position in the Organization—all that would be lost if he decided to keep this pregnancy.

“Proceed,” he ordered. “Let’s terminate now.”

“Very well,” the droid said. “Would you like to know the sex of the fetus before we start?”

Armitage jerked. “Is that even possible? At this stage?”

“Yes, with the First Order technology it’s possible, although there is a margin of error of .02%.”

“Okay then.” Armitage nodded. It wouldn’t change anything for him anyway.

“Biologically it’s female. It’d be a girl, sir.”

And— _fuck_ —it changed everything.

Armitage refused to cry in front of the droid. “Leave,” he said through clenched teeth. And just when the droid was almost out of the room, he added, “I don’t need to remind you that my health condition is highly classified and should remain so.”

“Of course, sir,” the droid replied.

After the door swooshed closed behind him, Hux went back to bed and remained there until his morning shift, eyes open, thoughts racing in his head.

By the dawn of the Alpha shift he had a plan, more or less.

 

*

Over the next weeks the nausea passed, finally, and so did the need to sleep at odd hours and have crying fits, so at least Armitage could work normally again. He felt invigorated, focused, and full of strength. He signed orders for necessary supplies, supervised new training methods for the troops, made changes to the reconditioning program, negotiated with the planets that were loyal to Supreme Leader Ren. Hidden between those everyday chores were Armitage’s personal things to be cared for, arrangements to be made and resources to be secured if he was going to have— _this_ , after all.

And all the while he felt like a ticking time bomb; eventually someone would notice and tell Ren.

What would Ren do if he learnt that Armitage had kept the baby? Would he kill Armitage along with the unwanted offspring? Or—quite the opposite—would he want to take this baby away and deprive Armitage of parenthood as soon as she was born? Ren had seemed oddly upset over that holo-call weeks ago, but he hadn’t made any contact since, and the only indication that the First Order’s Supreme Leader was still alive was a path of fire and death he’d left behind on various planets he’d visited. It was as if an angel of vengeance came upon those who dared not to bow their heads before the First Order. If there were Rebels out there still, at this rate they soon would be exterminated along with any remaining sympathizers, for Ren seemed to have no mercy for anyone.

Armitage wondered if Ren had ever thought of parenthood, of having not an apprentice he could train but a little, helpless human being he’d need to take care of. Would Ren even be capable of caring for someone? Would he want to?

 

*

Armitage sat down on his bed in the middle of the Gamma shift to let out the trousers of his uniform, _again_. It was the nineteenth week already, and he was getting really big. At first, his stomach had looked as if he’d eaten too much and was bloated, but now there was an unmistakable bump, hard and round-shaped. Soon, no alterations to the trousers, jacket, or greatcoat would be able to cover that up. But everything was almost ready. If all went according to Armitage’s plan, soon he’d be in a secure location on a distant planet with all the necessary resources, including a midwife/nursery droid, in place.

His cover-up project that had been the explanation for all the ordered and stocked items worked well. Officially, he was overseeing a new early-stage development program that would provide the First Order with loyal, genetically superior, perfectly trained soldiers, technicians, and engineers—all strictly monitored and protected from even before birth until adolescence, which would be the time when an individual would be directed to their respective cell in the Organization.

Armitage was truly engrossed in this project despite it starting as a cover-up, and he wanted to see it set in motion before he left without a trace. He should’ve been away from the Finalizer already. But what did one week here or there really change.

He was about to put the sewing kit away when an unexpected holo-projection from the Supreme Leader lit the entire room with blue light.

Ren in the holo looked older and somehow harder than the last time Armitage had seen him. Perhaps the pacification of the unruly planets had taken its toll on Ren. He had a new long scar on his face, crisscrossing his mouth and cheek and then going up to his temple and ear. Half of Ren’s hair on one side had been chopped and shaved off, most probably to give room for the medical droids to knit Ren’s skin. There were more shallow cut marks on the exposed skin above Ren’s ridiculous ear.

Armitage’s heart did something complicated in his chest upon remembering the black-red-white of Starkiller, Ren’s hair splayed on the snow and red blood spilled everywhere.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Ren was watching him over the holo, appearing to be as stunned as Armitage was. He leaned forward in the chair he was sitting on as if wanting to reach out to Armitage through the holo. His lips trembled as his black eyes flickered to Armitage’s face, then down to where Armitage’s tank top was undeniably spread tight over his protruding belly, and then back up to Armitage’s face.

Before Ren could speak Armitage threw himself on the transmitter and cut the holo-projection. He left the sewing kit on the bed and squeezed himself back into his jacket and greatcoat. Then he took the small bag from under his bed and marched hastily to the docking hangar.

“Supreme Leader Ren has requested my immediate presence in Sector Five,” he told the navigators. “No troops.” He waved his hand, dismissing his personal guard. “It’s the highest clearance mission only. I will be away for an indeterminate period of time and Captain Peavy is to take command in my absence.”

He glanced one final time at the Finalizer’s deck, to everything that he was leaving behind. Maybe one day he’d be able to come back, but—no—he knew this life was over for him. He allowed himself one more moment to take in the surroundings and then turned to his small transport.

As he waited for the spaceship to power up he counted the coordinates in his head—first to Hutt Space, where no one would follow, then jumping through various small planets in the Wild Space, and finally to his destination in the Arkanis Belt.

Perhaps, Ren had not yet rushed to chase Armitage.

Perhaps, Armitage could make it.

 

 

Kylo’s boots left deep footprints in the mossy terrain leading up to the lake area. The slight drizzle—warm but persistent—made the surroundings somewhat blurry, like from one of the _landshaft_ paintings Ben’s mother kept in their summer house on Naboo. The trees were similar to the ones drawn in the painting too: high, deep green, and rustling in the wind above Kylo’s head. The drizzle dimmed the scent of pine needles and greenery a little, making it more mushroom-like and mossy.

Kylo trekked up a low hill above the lake to where a glass wall of a house flickered in the light. The house was made of several large wooden cubes and _duraglass_ , and fitted the surroundings in that uncannily natural way that only very expensive architecture could.

There was no fence, no gate, no codes, nothing that Kylo had expected, and for a moment he thought that he must have found the wrong location, after all. The glistening lake, the whisper of trees above, and the soft trickle of rain didn’t make for a landscape that would suit Hux. Kylo could imagine him in a black _durasteel_ cage rather than the natural-colored elegant house fitting the edge of the forest like a piece of the landscape. But Kylo had misjudged a lot about Hux.

He walked up the stony path and then the stairs to the entrance, still not encountering any traps, alarms, or other security measures. The glass door was closed, but that couldn’t stop Kylo from entering. With a flick of his hand the locks gave way, and he entered a vast hall decorated with honey-colored wooden panels and black frames. He could feel Hux’s presence in the house, but it was silent and still, as if all the living creatures held their breath, waiting for Kylo. Kylo’s footsteps echoed as he ventured further inside until he reached a spacious open-plan kitchen and living room.

Hux sat on a large teal-colored couch, his back straight, a blaster in his hand. His hair was long—reaching his jaw—and dark, nearly black. He must have dyed it, perhaps to disguise himself. He wore a loose navy blue tunic and soft looking pants, and he had his First Order high black boots on, which contrasted with the domestic clothes to comical effect. His belly was protruding with the unmistakable final weeks of pregnancy.

“I won’t let you take her away from me,” Hux said calmly, pointing the blaster at Kylo in greeting.

“You know I can deflect that, right?” Kylo motioned to the blaster. He felt unsteady, like an avalanche put in motion after weeks of gathering up snow. His voice was shaky and he hated it. Gone was his arrogant certainty that no force in the Galaxy could defeat him now that Snoke and Luke were no longer in the picture. He tried to reclaim it. “Her?” he asked, reining himself in. His cheeks were hot.

Hux didn’t put the blaster away, but covered his stomach with his hand. “Don’t you know?” He looked at Kylo. “I thought that the Force tells you everything. It’s a girl. And as I said, I knew you would find me eventually, but I won’t let you take her away from me. You can hurt me if you want, but I won’t go down without a fight.”

This was all too unreal. Perhaps the Force was playing tricks on Kylo, like one of those times when Snoke had made him drink hallucinogenic tea and then train in combat skills while fighting off the most horrible visions.

Only this time around the vision wasn’t _a horror_ , even if it was equally terrifying.

“Can I sit?” he asked, because he felt weak at the knees and the Galaxy was spinning all around him. He was going to throw up. When Hux gestured to the other corner of the L-shaped couch with the blaster, Kylo slouched onto the cushions.

They sat in silence, observing each other.

The storm inside of Kylo’s soul raged on, but Kylo was tired. So bone-deep tired. It had been a long journey—hell, it had been a long three and half months, long years before that—and he was physically and mentally exhausted. The proximity of his—no, not _his_ but _a—_ pregnant Omega made his instincts flare up. Suppressing the urge to be as close as possible, to provide and protect, was putting a strain on Kylo he struggled to control.

It was weird to be in a lake house, of all places, like visiting one of Ben’s childhood memories. The air buzzed in Kylo’s ears with that strange no-sound of a place devoid of any artificial noise like the engines of a ship or the air conditioning equipment of a settlement.

Minutes ticked one by one, and finally Hux sighed and put the blaster on the glass coffee table in front of him. It made a clanking sound that startled Kylo out of some half-dreaming state. He made a move to push his hair back from his cheek, only to remember his hair hadn’t grown back there after his wounds had healed. He put his hand down, frowning, unhappy that Hux would see him like this. _Vain_ , Snoke had once called him. Perhaps he’d been right.

“So, how are the things in the First Order?” Hux asked. It sounded as if he was starting small talk at a party.

“I don’t know,” Kylo said, truthfully. He’d left the First Order right after he’d seen Hux in the holo, and he didn’t care what they were doing now. Defeating Luke and gaining absolute power over the Order hadn’t brought Kylo whatever he’d thought that he craved.

“You don’t know.” Hux leaned forward. The black hair framing his face made his eyes appear almost translucent, green-blue, and for one inexplicable moment Kylo felt so much regret and longing. To be back at that planet with lilies, when everything was dangerous but simple.

“All right,” Hux said, and Kylo wasn’t sure what Hux was agreeing to.

“All right,” Hux repeated. He looked out the window, bit his lip for a moment, and then scrambled off his seat. He toed off his boots, which apparently hadn’t been laced up. Barefoot and in loose, oversized clothes, without product in his long, newly dark hair, Hux looked so very young, delicate and _sweet_. Kylo knew that this innocent appearance couldn’t be trusted. Hux was a snake and he’d attack venomously when given a chance.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Hux said. “Then I need a meal and rest. Then… we can talk.”

That meant Hux was agreeing to Kylo staying in the house for some indeterminate period of time. “Do you want me to…” Kylo started, although he wasn’t sure how he planned to finish this sentence: “to stay with you,” “bring you something to eat,” “take care of you,” “hold you and tuck you to sleep?” All of this was ridiculous. Especially since Hux had apparently been doing well by himself here.

“Do whatever you want, Ren,” Hux said, and Kylo could hear the unspoken “it’s the only thing you’re good at” in Hux’s tone. It hurt and it didn’t. It was familiar, something Kylo could work with. He smirked and waited for Hux to return.

 

*

Kylo woke up unaware of his surroundings. Outside it was mostly dark, with only the lake’s black surface glistening in the moonlight like the slick body of some ancient monster. The house was quiet. Kylo stood up, stretching the stiffness out of his back and neck. He was getting too old and he’d had too many injuries to sleep wherever anymore, he thought. His body was starting to hate him.

The house was illuminated with a subtle light from wall panels placed only inches above the floor, reminding Kylo of emergency routes on starships. Maybe Hux felt more at ease with those on after spending almost his whole life in Space.

Kylo walked to the open kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. It tasted heavenly, pure and cold, almost sweet. He could sense Hux’s presence somewhere further up, but Hux’s thought pattern was peaceful and warm, indicating deep unperturbed sleep. There was something else, too, nudging at Kylo’s thoughts, but it was too indistinct to decipher its nature.

Kylo walked around the ground floor, taking in the surroundings. The colors were mostly indistinguishable in the dim light, but Kylo could tell that everything that wasn’t made of natural wood was in various shades of gray. He wondered if Hux’d had a say in the décor of this place or if he’d acquired whatever was available to him without fuss. He had to admit that while the choice of a planet in the Arkanis Belt felt unusually sentimental for someone like Hux and hadn’t been Kylo’s first choice when he’d started searching for Hux, it was quite a smart location—far away from the theatre of war and with enough old imperialists in the area to feel safe. After all no one knew that Hux had defected, or at least vanished without a trace. When Kylo himself had been leaving the First Order behind, his officers had still been under the impression that the General had gone on a highly classified mission directed by Kylo himself. He hadn’t contradicted them at the time. What they thought now, Kylo didn’t care.

Kylo took the wooden stairs to the first floor. There was an open door on his left, leading to a fresher with a window facing the forest and a huge bathtub. By the window there was a baby changing station prepared, with toiletries and diapers ready, and Kylo’s heart made some complicated move. Of course Hux would be prepared. He probably had the educational program picked out already, too.

Kylo walked to the furthest room at the back of the hall and looked inside the bedroom to see Hux curled up in a big bed, deeply asleep. Here, too, the low light was on, and Kylo could observe the gentle rise and fall of Hux’s chest, his features softened by sleep, lips parted, and long dark hair splayed in disarray. Kylo’s Alpha brain wanted nothing more than to crawl up into the “nest” and lie at Hux’s feet, guarding him, or maybe even curl up around him, cradle him in his arms, inhale the sweet Omega scent and fall asleep like that—warm and safe.

But that was impossible, of course; even if it didn’t freak Hux out, it was just, well, silly. It was disturbing for Kylo himself; he wasn’t accustomed to having these urges to be gentle and caring with Hux, or anyone else, actually.

After a while of watching Hux sleep Kylo sighed, turned, and walked back downstairs. He was hungry, and he didn’t feel like going back to his ship to retrieve the instant meals he’d stocked there, so he raided Hux’s kitchen instead. There were fresh food items in the conservator and on the shelves, and enough kitchen utensils for Kylo to use without the need to call the kitchen droid for help. It was currently blinking in the kitchen corner, waiting for orders, unhappy about Kylo’s intrusion. Kylo kept an eye on it. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially not to Hux, but ever since Elma, the nanny droid from his childhood, had been hacked and programmed to kill little Ben, he’d not had much fondness for droids. Hux wouldn’t understand that irrational fear even though he had his own traumas—of people gripping him in the freshers, of food shortage, of being pinned down and suffocated. Still, they were more reasonable fears than Kylo’s irrational panic at the sight of a cleaning droid tidying his bed on the Finalizer.

This was why he preferred cooking by himself even if his cooking skills weren’t the best. He only knew whatever simple meals Han and later Luke had taught him to make, but he could put together an omelet with local mushrooms, cheese, and what looked similar to sweet potatoes Leia had used to like.

He was about to dish it out when Hux appeared in the door, his hair standing up and a pillow crease on his cheek. Kylo had to fight the urge to come closer and nuzzle into Hux’s soft skin.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hux asked in a voice roughened from sleep.

“Cooking.” Kylo winked, and then scowled because this was something Han would have done.

“Why?”

“Because… I was hungry?” Kylo shot Hux a look. “Sit down if you want some.”

“Don’t tell me what to do in my own kriffing house,” Hux said, but he sat on a high stool next to the kitchen counter and dug into the eggs with evident hunger, even though it was technically still the middle of the night. He wouldn’t compliment Kylo on his cooking skills, but he almost moaned around the forkful of omelet and Kylo smiled, putting down a plate for himself and sitting opposite Hux.

“So,” Hux said, placing the utensils on the counter once he was done with his food. “What are you going to do to us?”

The hostile tone of Hux’s voice made Kylo’s vision darken at the edges. “What am I going to do to _who_?”

Hux frowned. “Me and the baby, who else?”

Kylo didn’t like the way his stomach tightened when he heard the word “baby.” Despite visible evidence of Hux’s pregnant form, Kylo hadn’t allowed himself a single moment to think about their baby. Until now.

“I don’t know,” he said. He felt like he was being stretched in various directions. He didn’t know what to make of his own emotions. For so long he’d known only anger, despair, and overwhelming pain. And now he couldn’t understand the hurtful warmth he experienced looking at Hux.

“Why would you seek us out, then?” Kylo could tell that Hux was angry. “Why couldn’t you just… let this be?”

Kylo bit his lip. How could he explain to Hux that he just _had to_ come? Could he hide from Hux how much he cared? Because there was no question that he did care.

Hux considered him in silence, his lips pursed. “And now? Now that you’ve chased us down, what do you want?”

Kylo opened his mouth but didn’t have an answer for Hux.

The conscious being stirred inside of Hux and Kylo had to stifle a gasp. He felt again the strange nudging in his thoughts. Hux must have taken Kylo’s silence for something else, though, because he added in a heated way, “I said it twice already. I won’t let you take her away from me. You may as well kill me.”

Now Kylo was angry, too. He welcomed the familiar feeling with relief. “I’m not here _to take a baby from you_. I wasn’t even sure there was a baby still!” And then, because he was irritated and tired and confused, he added, cruelly, “But do you really think you’ll be able to raise a Force-sensitive child all by yourself without the guidance of a Force user?”

Only after saying that did Kylo realize he was right. The consciousness that he felt was a Force-being, bright and warm, tiny, but a Force-creature without a doubt.

“You’re lying.” Hux was white as a sheet of paper. “How would you know that?”

“I can feel it. It’s—she’s—reaching to me with the Force even now.”

Hux stumbled out of the kitchen and into the night illuminated by the lamps on the terrace outside.

After a while, Kylo sighed and walked after him. He was probably the worst person in the whole galaxy to help calm anyone, let alone Hux, but the night was cool, and Hux would soon get uncomfortably cold.

“I just wanted this one thing,” Hux said without turning to Kylo. His hands were clenched tight on the terrace railing. “This one thing in my whole life—the only thing to myself. But you, _Skywalkers_ , you have to spoil everything in the Galaxy. Everything your kind touches… you destroy, and just take and take.”

Kylo didn’t point out that Hux’s baby was going to be a half-Skywalker, too.

When Hux eventually turned to face Kylo there were tears shining on his cheeks that he wiped with the back of his hand angrily.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo said. He had nothing else to say. The deep fury that he’d felt all his life because of his family and all their lies and neglect was something he’d grown accustomed to, but Hux’s painful hate rekindled it anew. He hadn’t asked for this any more than Hux had.

Hux visibly deflated. He shivered in the night’s chill. The clouds were thickening, obscuring the moons and stars. The smell of rain was already detectable in the air. Soon enough the first droplets of water fell, creating circles on the lake’s surface.

“Let’s go back inside, okay?” Kylo offered, and Hux nodded.

Back in the house Hux curled up on the couch, covering himself with a thick gray blanket that had been draped over the couch’s side. Kylo was about to take “his” place opposite Hux, but something made him cross the distance and sit closer, on the wooden floor, with his back pressed to the couch’s seat. They sat like that for awhile, neither of them willing to move.

“How long before the baby comes?” Kylo asked. His voice felt like an intrusion in the silence of the night.

“Four weeks,” Hux said. He, too, wasn’t asleep. “Five at most.”

“Could I stay here until she comes?” This was so strange. Before coming here Kylo wasn’t even sure if he cared about this baby, but right now he was terrified of Hux saying no. Despite what Hux thought, Kylo wouldn’t make him do anything Hux didn’t want. Not anymore.

“I…” Hux said and stopped. Then, “I’ll have to think about it.”

Kylo would take that. It wasn’t an outright denial.

“Won’t someone come searching for you? Supreme Leader missing is a pretty grave situation, I dare say.”

Kylo shrugged. No one missed him—not in the First Order, not anywhere else in the world. “I’m no longer the Supreme Leader of the First Order. I don’t think there _is any_ Supreme Leader right now, and for sure no one will look for me, especially now when the First Order is in diplomatic talks with all the resisting planets to create a new General Assembly, like the old Republic but “better.” The point is—I don’t care. I stopped caring when I saw you pregnant, through that holo-transmission. Besides,” Kylo added, “I can cloak us all with the Force, keep us safe.”

Perhaps he passed some test in Hux’s eyes, because Hux nodded and said, “Keep us all safe… All right. Until the baby comes.”

Heavy droplets of rain hit the windows, leaving curved trails as they flew down the glass. Kylo could hear Hux’s soft breathing while he was drifting into sleep on the couch. The baby was asleep too, her Force pattern peaceful and dark blue, like a soft cloud surrounding Kylo, a cooling bacta-patch applied on thoughts and emotions instead of flesh.

 

*

The morning found Kylo on the floor, his body screaming at him from the abuse. He really needed to stop sleeping like this. Up on the couch Hux sat cross-legged, watching Kylo. Kylo smiled.

“Don’t be so pleased with yourself.” Hux scowled. “I’m a realist. I know you won’t leave anyway, but I have some conditions for your stay.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows. “Which are?”

Hux started reciting them like he’d mulled over them in his head many times before. “You are not to question me on anything I decide about the baby: you don’t question my food choices, my timetable, my preparations for the delivery—nothing. You have no say in anything relating to my daughter, including her name.”

“Does she have a name?” Kylo asked, ignoring the fact that Hux still wouldn’t think of this child as Kylo’s, too. If he went down that road he’d break everything around them and Hux had always been especially snarky and unpleasant after Kylo’s outbursts.

“That’s not relevant.” Hux was a bit red in the face. “What’s important is that we do it my way or not at all. I’m on top here.”

Kylo couldn’t help himself and grinned, then snorted, and Hux pointed his finger at him. “And don’t get any ideas, either. We had sex because I was under the effect of heat-inducing pollen that threatened my wellbeing and life. This will not happen again.”

“Okay,” Kylo said.

“Good,” Hux replied, somehow sounding disappointed.

*

Living with a civilian Hux in a modest but comfortable house by the lake was the most surreal experience of Kylo’s life. Hux would wake up early in the morning, drink his special nutritious shake that the nursery droid prepared for him, do stretching exercises, and then work on his tablet—on bloody who knew what, since he wasn’t a First Order General anymore. Once, when Kylo glanced over, he could see engineering schematics on the screen, but whether they were for engines or weapons or some other project, Kylo wasn’t able to tell. All he knew was that Hux had secured enough credits or a steady income to maintain this luxurious house outside of the planet’s more populated areas, and he’d paid for perfectly scheduled deliveries of fresh food that arrived in automatically driven transports every other day.

After a few hours of working, Hux would have lunch and then curl back up on his couch under the warm blanket to nap. He was set on ignoring Kylo, or at least he pretended he didn’t see him most of the time.

Surprising even himself, Kylo didn’t feel as much out of his element as he thought he would in such a situation. As much as he loathed inactivity he was used to waiting: as a boy when he’d wait for his parents to show up, usually curled up somewhere in Chewie’s workshop, then as a young Jedi with Luke teaching him patience, and finally with Snoke forcing him into deprivation chambers for weeks on end. So he followed Hux silently through the house, switched off the kitchen droid when Hux wasn’t looking and prepared meals, and fought the cleaning droid over laundry. And when he began feeling too agitated he’d go outside to train and meditate by the lake.

Their domestic life felt strange but good nonetheless, and Kylo didn’t mind it continuing a while longer, even if he knew that this reprieve from the pain and turmoil of fighting wasn’t permanent. This was how Ben used to imagine his life as a child at home, if only Han and Leia had a single week to spend in their house together. The slow days, the cooking, swimming in a lake. He’d grown out of his childish dreams, of course, and never considered having something like this with Hux of all people, but he was beginning to cling to this false sense of serenity, stability and… peace.

However, time was not on Kylo’s side. He was now attuned to both Hux’s and the baby’s senses well enough to know that the pregnancy was coming to its end.

It was quite obvious that Hux was getting really uncomfortable with the huge belly, restless legs, and constant heartburn he complained about aloud. The most difficult for him were the baby’s late evening movements. The baby was fidgety for what seemed like hours.

“May I?” Kylo asked after he saw Hux shift for the umpteenth time in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

“May you what?” Hux barked out. “Use your words. You have to say it, Ren. Unlike you I’m not a mind reader.”

Kylo stifled his irritation. Hus was being petulant, but Hux had always been a little shit and Kylo was used to it. “My I touch her—I mean, your stomach?”

Hux considered it for a moment. “Yes, all right. She’s been kicking me for hours now. I feel like one of those machines on the Finalizer we used to wash the uniforms in. It can’t possibly get any worse than that.”

Kylo moved from his usual spot on the floor and kneeled up to reach Hux’s stomach. The Force was tingling underneath his fingertips, luring him in. He hesitated, hovering over Hux’s shirt, and then gently placed his hand down. After a moment the rapid series of movements under Kylo’s hand stilled.

“Oh,” Hux said, and Kylo looked up at him.

“Do you feel it too?” Kylo asked. The red waves of the Force around Hux turned slowly violet and then stabilized into a gentle blue.

Hux’s lips were parted, his eyes very green—like once, like before.

“Do you?” Kylo asked again, because somehow he needed this answer.

“Yes,” Hux whispered back, as if not wanting to disturb the peace of the moment. “She seems to like this—you.”

*

That night Hux couldn’t sleep. Kylo heard him get up to the fresher more than seven times and then shift in his bed, moving pillows around. Dawn light was touching the sky when Kylo heard a soft whimper, and he immediately ran to Hux’s bedroom feeling his heart thudding and his blood rushing in fear.

“What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Hux grunted. He sounded tired. “Just—sore. I’m so kriffing done with this. If I have to get up to go to the fresher one more time I’ll scream. And why doesn’t she let me sleep? Why is the fucking middle of the night the best possible time for her to make a hyperdrive turbine inside of my body?”

He sounded close to tears.

“Do you want me to try calming her again?”

“No,” Hux said, and tendrils of misplaced _jealousy_ hit Kylo, but then he shifted on the bed and winced. “Yes. Do whatever you like.”

Kylo crawled up on the bed. Here, Hux’s smell was overwhelming, disarming—his soft, warm, rounded body _singing_ “Yours, mate, protect!” so strongly it almost made Kylo howl like a wolf.

Kylo slipped under the ruffled covers and maneuvered Hux on his side, with his back pressed to Kylo’s chest. Then, Kylo reached around. Hux’s soft shirt was rolled up, allowing easy access to his stomach and tightly-stretched, smooth skin. Kylo’s fingers traced a line from Hux’s belly button, down to the edge of his briefs, and then up again. He let his hand rest on the exposed skin, relishing the direct contact. He inhaled the scent at Hux’s nape and spread his fingers, sending some calming Force-waves to the little creature inside Hux. After a moment the movement stilled again, first with some curiosity, then peace, until the baby fell asleep. Hux’s breathing evened up, too, and his thoughts were blank for a while before he started dreaming.

Kylo stayed awake, watching the sunrise turn the colors in Hux’s bedroom from indistinguishable grays to warm beiges and contrasting blacks. If Kylo could bottle up moments to preserve them for later, he would want to keep this one—with small dust particles dancing in a ray of light coming from the half-closed shutters, birds quarreling outside, and the gentle hum of the forest around the house. He would want to feel Hux’s soft hair under his lips, and watch Hux’s nervous fingers twitching even in deep sleep, and sense the occasional shift of that little Star inside of Hux.

He couldn’t foresee what the future held for him, not in visions nor in his dreams, but he knew that when he’d given up on the First Order, on ruling the Galaxy, in favor of finding Hux and having this… whatever it was because he wouldn’t dare call it a _family_ , he’d made a good decision.

*

Kylo woke up a few hours later, alone in Hux’s huge bed. The sheets were still rumpled and smelled of Hux, and for a moment Kylo rolled on his stomach to stay cocooned in this scent, pretending that Hux was still there. The illusion wasn’t quite enough, though, so he got up and stormed out of the room, leaving the mess of sheets and blankets half on the bed and half on the floor. The cleaning droid could take care of those, he thought with a vicious sting.

He found Hux in the kitchen on a high stool with the medical droid pricking his fingers for drops of blood and beeping in agitation.

“What’s wrong?” Kylo asked.

Hux looked pale this morning, or paler than usual—like he used to look when he was still aboard the Finalizer.

“Nothing,” he said, not too convincingly. “The SG8 here is worried about my blood pressure. Tells me to rest and stay in bed instead of walking around the house. It says that the baby still needs at least two weeks to develop properly, but I am so ready for this to be over. How are two weeks going to change anything?”

The droid injected something into Hux’s arm and Hux scowled.

Kylo must have looked murderous because Hux explained, “This is to stop the premature contractions.”

“Oh,” Kylo said. “Was that why you were so uncomfortable last night? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Hux just shrugged.

Kylo’s anger spiked but he made an effort to keep it out of his voice. His temper had never gotten him far with Hux. “Hux, you need to tell me these things if I’m to be helpful.”

“Okay,” Hux said. He avoided Kylo’s gaze, but this agreement felt a bit like submission, and Kylo’s Alpha instincts howled with pleasure.

*

The next days passed in an uncanny, artificial stillness. It was as if Kylo’s usual turmoil of all emotions had been locked outside, or as if he’d been placed in the eye of a hurricane. He expected to feel more and more unhinged from the cocktail of heavy emotions normally tearing him apart, but instead he was grounded and focused.

In contrast, Hux was growing increasingly moody. He’d listened to the droid and stayed in bed most of the time, but the forced immobility made him more irritated than usual. He snarled at Kylo most of the time, and only allowed Kylo’s proximity when he needed to soothe the baby during the day or at night, although Kylo suspected that it had more to do with soothing Hux himself than the little Star inside of him, as the baby was less active in the rapidly tightening space she had now.

After yet another “soothing” session, Kylo was again lying on Hux’s bed with Hux napping next to him. The sun was set already, but after an uncharacteristically hot and sunshiny day for an Arkanis Belt planet, it was too warm in the bedroom, the house’s massive glass panels making the interior heat up like a greenhouse. Hux had undressed sometime earlier and was only in his briefs and Kylo’s loose tank top. Kylo hooked his hand to tug Hux closer despite the heat in the room and a thin layer of sweat covering them both.

He wasn’t sure if it was his Alpha instincts or something else, but despite Hux’s foul mood Kylo couldn’t stay away, as if he couldn’t get enough of Hux. He knew that all this would end soon with the baby’s arrival. After all, Kylo was here only on borrowed time; Hux didn’t want him here. It was just a ceasefire, even if Kylo wasn’t able to even think of the impending end of this little ball of peace.

At the feel of Kylo’s hand slipping under the tank top Hux moaned. It was low and short but an undeniable moan of pleasure and want. Kylo moved his hand lower and Hux half rolled on his back, parting his legs to give Kylo better access. Kylo leaned in and kissed Hux’s neck. He was getting hard, his body tight with sudden desire, wanting Hux _so much_. He paused with his hand over Hux’s cock.

“Do you want me to…?”

“Yes.” In the silence of the room it sounded like something more—something way bigger and much more serious than just an agreement to a sleepy hand job. It sounded like a promise even if it wasn’t.

Hux’s cock twitched under Kylo’s fingers, hot and slightly sticky from sweat. Kylo’s palm was big enough to wrap around the whole shaft as he slowly stroked it up and down, making sure to go gently over the sensitive head. He pushed down his underwear a little, just to free his own cock, and rubbed it over Hux’s skin.

It was too hot to do anything really; it lacked any finesse, it was adolescent, and maybe it should feel impersonal, with only hands and rubbing against each other, but it was so good. Kylo breathed into Hux’s neck as he sped up the motion of his hand on Hux’s dick and timed it with thrusting up, his cock sliding over Hux’s cleft and up the little valley of his spine. After just a few moments, Hux shook deeply, coming, spilling over Kylo’s hand with a whine, tensing and tensing and then, finally, relaxing into Kylo’s embrace until he turned into a too-hot, sweaty, pliant mess.

Kylo pressed his forehead to Hux’s neck, squeezed his eyes shut and thrusted, putting pressure at the base of his cock, and he was coming too, breathing too loud and spilling over the edge of his pushed-down underwear and onto Hux’s back.

Kylo fought the urge to lick his soiled hand because he was sure that would earn him a disgusted look from Hux, and he wiped the seed into his underwear instead. They were wet from his own release and in need of washing anyway. 

Hux was on his back, his breathing slowly steadying. He looked calm, blissed-out even, with his eyes closed and almost translucent eyelashes trembling along with the micro-movements of his eyelids. Then Hux opened his eyes and rolled on his side, facing Kylo, watching him thoughtfully.

“What happened?” Hux’s fingers were feather light and gentle as they ghosted over Kylo’s scars on the side of his head.

“Lightsaber.” Kylo didn’t want to elaborate.

“Was that the girl again?”

“No,” Kylo said and turned on the other side, letting Hux’s hand slip away from his hair. He didn’t want to remember it. He didn’t want to dwell on anything from his previous life ever again.

“I hope they’re dead, whoever it was.”

Kylo turned again, to look at Hux with astonishment, because the amount of resentment coming from Hux was inexplicable. Resentment and something that felt like _care_ for Kylo. It made him feel wanted and cherished and _someone’s_.

“Oh, they’re dead,” Kylo said gloomily, and Hux nodded.

“Good.”

Kylo didn’t answer but pulled Hux tight to his chest.

 

*

Hux had it all planned—the exact day and hour of the delivery, and Kylo agreed to go practice by the lake to avoid being in the way. But since babies rarely kept to schedule, Force-wielding children no less, they were woken up in the middle of the night with Hux crying out in pain.

“Kriff,” Hux gasped out. “Fuck. I’m not…” He gritted his teeth. “Get the medical droid!”

Kylo watched Hux with fear. Even though male Omagas could bear children, they rarely survived natural labor as their bodies weren’t exactly prepared for this chore. If the process had already progressed too far Hux could die, along with the baby.

Hux’s fingers clenched painfully on Kylo’s arm. “Ren. The droid.”

This finally prompted Kylo to move. He ran downstairs to turn on the droid that Hux had put into sleep mode to avoid its constant judging looks and lectures.

After that, the procedure couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, but Kylo felt as if ages passed before the droid got the anesthetic into Hux’s spine and then even longer before it passed the baby into Hux’s arms, covered them both in a soft cloth, and placed bacta over the stitched thin incision on Hux’s abdomen to speed up the process of healing.

The baby was tiny—the tiniest thing Kylo had ever seen in his life. She must have been stunned by the abrupt change in her surroundings, or hadn’t yet noticed the difference, as she wasn’t crying, not even squeaking. She had thick dark hair—black where it was still wet—and a beautiful little face with two tiny birthmarks, not unlike Kylo’s. She opened her eyes, and even though Kylo knew she couldn’t really see anything yet, he still felt as if the world shuddered with Force around them.

Hux seemed just as dazed as Kylo, but perhaps it was because the droid had hooked him into an IV cocktail of healing bacta-fluid, nutrients, and painkillers.

“Status,” Hux said, sounding uneven.

“All is perfectly fine, sir.” The droid rattled off all the data about vital functions and organs while Hux nodded along. Kylo could say that Hux didn’t hear a word of what the droid was reporting, mostly staring at the gently moving bundle on his chest that started to make little huffing noises.

The droid soon left to give Hux some private time. Kylo stood awkwardly by the door, not sure he was welcome anymore, now that the baby was born. But after a while of staring at the baby’s face Hux looked up at Kylo and asked, “Do you want to hold her?”

Kylo approached Hux gingerly and extended his hands. They felt too huge and not gentle enough to hold the tiny human that seemed so fragile, even if she weighed more than Kylo had expected. She was so beautiful, so perfect, that the sight made Kylo’s heart swell, and he didn’t even try to stop the tears that tightened his throat. The baby’s Force-pattern was unique and strong. Holding her felt like cradling a supernova.

“Rea,” Hux said, watching the baby scrunch her face a little and grumble. “This is your father. Better get used to him as he’ll be around for a while.” Then he looked at up at Kylo with a mixture of hope and fear, and asked, “Won’t you?”

Kylo brought his face close to the baby’s head to inhale her sweet scent and then looked at Hux.

“Yes,” he said, allowing the brightness to overcome him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see Hux's house it's this one: [Quebec Lakehouse](https://nonagon.style/warm-minimalism-quebec-lakehouse/)
> 
> There might be a chapter 3, but I'm afraid it might take some time before I write it, it won't happen before Christmas for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry that it took me ages to complete this. Hope it was worth to wait! This is as sweet as Kylux can go.  
> WARNINGS in tags (all tags apply) and for marking.
> 
> Thank you [kyluxtrashcompactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor) for prereading and Sillygoose for the beta <3

 

They were pushing through a crowded bazaar, with Ren holding sleeping Rea strapped to his chest, when Armitage felt it—something dropping inside of himself, a huge pull to the ground, as if some strange force was trying to suck him under the surface of the planet.

He stopped.

All around them vendors were shouting, speeder drivers were honking their horns, local odd, hairy animals were snarling. The smell of fruit, meat, fish and spices transformed the air into an almost solid structure.

“What?” Ren asked, turning when he realized Armitage wasn’t following him anymore.

Armitage shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know. I just felt…”

And then there was it again—a pull, as if being tugged on by a string. And a smell, almost untraceable in the cocktail of odors in the market, but familiar in a way that made Armitage’s chest ache. He walked to the nearest stall where a vendor had piles upon piles of herbs and little dusty bottles of elixirs that claimed to cure all kinds of illnesses.

“Mister! Mister!” The vendor—a Gand, or some similar species—waved his hand in invitation. “Here.”

Despite the fact that the stall was dirty, covered in a thick film of the planet’s brown-yellow dust like everything else, Armitage could clearly see the shape of the three-leaf flower engraved on some of the bottles. He didn’t need to read the _F-lily_ inscription beneath the drawing to know these were potions made from distilled  _Fellutian’s lilies._

He approached the stall and pretended to look at some cough medicine instead of the three-leaf flower vials. He and Ren had been laying low and leading their day-to-day life with Rea, as normally as possible under the circumstances. Seeking concoctions for Hux’s future potential fertility was too risky; those elixirs weren’t as popular anymore, and their little family might be discovered by an overly curious dealer. Not that they hadn’t been on the lookout.

Armitage knew _all_ about the liliesnow. He’d studied the pollen, the physiology of rare male omegas, and the possible effects and side effects of induced heats. He certainly was a unique case, not only because male omegas were almost unheard of these days, but also because he hadn’t found anyone who’d been exposed to live pollen, and whole _fields_ of it. All he knew was that he should have died back then, and it had been a miracle that he hadn’t. As he understood it, the exposure to such a massive amount of fresh lilies should’ve killed him on the spot. However, taken in a small dose, distilled and then inhaled, or applied as a drop under the tongue, the pollen could induce a good, healthy heat and also help with fertility, as it encouraged ovulation. And if all that didn’t work, it could improve the quality of sex due to its aphrodisiac effect.

Not that Armitage would seek out pollen for _that_. Quite unexpectedly, his sex life with Ren had been… well, “good” wouldn’t do it justice. Armitage wouldn’t admit it to Ren, but their sex life had been _exquisite_ —way better than Armitage had ever hoped for, or could ever have imagined.

He placed the cough medicine down and reached for one of the bottles with the _lilies_ extract. He angled the bottle to show it to Ren, who’d caught up with him and now stood next to him, curious. Ren looked at the vial and then at Armitage, his brown eyes warm and inquiring, hopeful. And yes, they’d talked about how one day they could maybe have another child together. This is why they had been looking for the pollen elixirs. Despite the sleepless nights and busy days and all the hustle Rea as a newborn and then a toddler had been so far.

Armitage looked back at Ren. “You think?”

Ren shrugged but he had that look on his face that Armitage knew well by now. It said, “Don’t disappoint me. Don’t betray me. _Don’t break me_.”

And Armitage reached for his credits. He could always buy the potion now and keep it for later or decide not to use it at all.

A gust of wind swirled over the market, hitting Armitage in the face with the dust and debris from the stall, making him week in the knees. There was something odd about the smell of it. The vials were sealed closed, but Armitage noticed that there were also small piles of dried flowers placed in crates under a table and some powder in open jars. He was suddenly a bit worried that he could have already inhaled too much of it, as he was very certain he could feel some effects from the pollen that was swirling in the air over the stall. Perhaps after having once been exposed to this fresh kind of pollen he was now especially sensitive to it?

The Gand selling the pollen smiled broadly, exposing a toothless mouth, and gurgled something in apparent appreciation, to which Ren responded, shaking his head. Armitage watched Ren bargain for a moment and then exchange a couple of credit chips for a vial. The Gand added a second vial and one dried flower to the little bag it produced from under the counter and then peered at Rea, smiling its toady smile again. It reached behind to dig in a dirty leather bag and took out a red half-translucent sugar lollipop—the kind one could get in the New Republic cities during festive events like Life Day.

Disgusted, Armitage took the offered candy, glad that Rea was asleep, and that he could hide the detestable, unsanitary sweet before she saw it. The Gand gurgled something more, laughing and making some obscene gesture. Ren’s cheeks colored.

“What did he say?” Armitage asked.

“That you’re narrow and that I should open you up slowly, using the relaxing oil he’s added to the bag.”

Now it was Armitage’s turn to blush as he furiously pushed Ren forward into the crowd.

 

*

By the time they reached their ship Armitage was sure that the pollen he’d already inhaled was enough to induce his heat, and things were progressing _fast_.

“Ren?” He tugged on Ren’s sleeve. Rea was already stirring from her sleep, eyes blinking in the pink light of the planet’s two suns setting over the horizon.

Ren was struggling to untie Rea from his chest, and Armitage reached out to help and take Rea from him, but Ren didn’t let go of her, instead swinging her a little and kissing her sweaty forehead. Usually Rea would wake up crying, but when she was close to Ren she was always calmer and happier, and Armitage could never help but be a little jealous about it.

“I think I inhaled too much of that pollen dust by the stall.”

“There you go,” Ren said, placing Rea on the ship’s cot.

“Flowels,” Rea said and clapped her hands, then threw them in the air. “Poof!”

“You had a dream about flowers? Were they nice?” Ren asked, kneeling next to her. He pushed her hair out of her face. The black curls framed her sweaty cheeks in sweet little ringlets that Armitage loved to wrap around his fingers when he was putting her to bed.

“Yes!” She nodded enthusiastically a few times. “Big sistel!” she said, pointing at her chest, and then she rolled down from the cot to run toward the ship’s other compartment where they kept some of her toys.

A wave of nausea made Armitage bend down and put a hand on the cot to support himself. He felt a wet, sticky fluid pooling in his underwear and then trickling down his leg.

“Ren,” he gasped out.

 “What?” Ren asked, finally looking at him.

“I think I’m in heat already.”

“But…” Ren took out the vial he’d purchased from the vendor and held it up in front of them. “How? This is untouched.”

Armitage grew embarrassed and then instantly angry. “There was pollen dust all over that stall, and it’s happening, even though it shouldn’t. Not _this_ fast, for sure.”

Ren kept his eyes on Armitage for a long moment. His nostrils flared, his eyes widened, and then he just nodded. “Yes, you are in heat. I can feel it too. I can _smell_ it.” He looked wistful for a moment. “Although, when I think about it, I’ve been smelling you like this for days now.”

Armitage sat heavily on the cot. This wasn’t ideal. He always thought that his next heat—if it even happened—would be carefully planned and that they’d be able to take their time about it. He wasn’t a young omega; in fact, he was reaching the age when natural heat and pregnancy wouldn’t be possible anymore. Those rare male omegas that existed usually stopped being fertile around their thirty-fifth year of life. Despite not using any suppressants, Armitage had not had a full heat since Rea’s birth. Nor had he been using any contraception, for that matter, so he’d been pretty much sure that his fertile days were over; he just hadn’t talked to Ren about it yet.

Therefore, he definitely wasn’t prepared for _this._

“Fuck.” He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, agitated. His hand got tangled in the thin red strands that he kept long these days, and he hissed. “I must have been going into heat for days, then, and whatever I inhaled today must have accelerated it. We’ve got to… I don’t want Rea around when I’m like this. Maybe we can fly home and MU-20 could take care of her while we stay on the ship to… you know?”

Ren frowned. “No. That’s out of the question.”

Armitage scoffed. He understood Ren’s reluctance when it came to leaving Rea with the droid nanny. He knew where the worry came from, he could even share the fear of something happening to Rea like it had happened to little Ben Solo—someone hacking into the system and turning the droid into an assassin. And Force knew, they had enough enemies in the Galaxy who could track them down despite all the safety measures they always had in place, to try such a thing. But this was an emergency. He was already sweating heavily and could feel the next trickle of slick pooling in his underwear. It was making him uncomfortable, and he was sure that in a matter of hours he’d be incoherent and totally unhelpful, certainly not in his right mind to care for their daughter.

“We could ask my mother…” Ren mumbled, and Armitage choked on his spit.

“Are you insane?”

“Hux, listen. I’ve no idea how this happened, but you seem to be pretty deep into the heat already. What I do know is that we don’t have that much time, not enough to get anyone else we can trust to come and take care of her if we don’t want to _waste_ this opportunity. And I refuse to leave Rea with the MU-20. It’s not like we have that many other options! Quite miraculously, Rea’s grandmother is on this fucking planet. This is why _we_ are on this stupid planet! We were supposed to meet with her tomorrow anyway—she was _supposed_ to meet Rea.”

“Yes, but with you present the whole time! We were _not_ supposed to leave Rea with Organa alone!” Armitage was losing his ability to breathe normally. He unzipped his jacket and unbuttoned the shirt underneath. “What if she takes her away?” This was his biggest fear now—losing what they had together, losing Rea and Ren.

Armitage didn’t trust Leia Organa—not in the past and not now either. He couldn’t believe in her good intentions. He couldn’t believe that she’d just leave them alone, not give them away. He couldn’t believe she would agree to meet in the most forgotten part of the Galaxy only to be able to see Rea for a couple of hours while Ren loomed over them and Hux stood by the door, keeping guard, pretending he didn’t see Organa’s dirty looks thrown his way. Not without an ulterior motive anyway.

“You know she won’t. She promised she wouldn’t do anything like that. Besides, Rea is the Galaxy’s answer for balance in the Force, and my mother claims that even Rey agrees that our daughter has to be with us, that Rea has to have access to the Dark in me—in us. This”— he motioned between the two of them—“is the perfect balance for the Galaxy’s most important Force user. My mother won’t risk upsetting this delicate Perfect Balance we’ve all achieved.”

“The girl…” Armitage refused to call the scavenger by her name even now. “The girl was supposed to be the perfect balance. _You_ were supposed to be the perfect balance, and look how that turned out!”

Ren shook his head. “Hux, we’ve been through this. I’m not having the same conversation over and over again.”

Before Armitage could answer, a strong painful twist of lust and ache made him double over and gasp. Along with the cramp a new, heavier trickle of slick ran down his thigh, wetting his trousers. Ren’s nostrils flared in response, and Armitage wanted to crawl to his Alpha’s feet and beg to be fucked, but he couldn’t lose his mind just yet. Not until Rea was safe and away. He had to admit that they were out of better options.

“Fine,” he gritted out through his teeth. “Fine. Take her to Organa. But if anything happens to Rea—and by anything I also mean Rea getting upset over the stupid garbage Organa tells her about us—”

He couldn’t finish. His insides were suddenly lit on fire and he could only collapse on the floor next to the cot, taking ragged gasps of air. He didn’t remember heat being this painful before. But then again, perhaps back then he’d been so out of it, literally dying, that his body didn’t remember how hard it had been, just like it didn’t remember how hard it had been during the pregnancy, labor, and the first months after Rea’s birth. Another pang of pain, mixed with pure lust, made him curl up on the floor.

“That’s it,” Ren said, kneeling next to Armitage and pushing Armitage’s hair from his face, much in the same gesture he’d used on Rea earlier. “I’m going. Let me get you to the bed first.”

Armitage shook his head and pressed his heated cheek to the floor. “No. Let me stay here for a moment. I’m hot. I’ll go to bed by myself in a moment. Just hurry.” He felt sick and thirsty, his stomach churning, his muscles in pain, his vision spotty. He couldn’t see anything but Ren—like a beacon, like a heat pattern in front of him. He closed his eyes and counted to ten in High Galactic, hoping the pain would subside a little bit in Ren’s absence. “Let me just say goodbye to Rea,” he said. He needed to get off the floor, but he couldn’t push himself up.

“You’ll scare her like this. Hux, relax, you’ll see her in two days max, all right? She’ll be fine, and I can’t take care of you both at the same time. Just—stay and I’ll be back within an hour. Stay.”

Armitage wanted to complain that he wasn’t a hound to be ordered to stay, but his brain cells were temporarily fried or short-circuited, and instead he had to direct all his strength to fighting the urge to roll over and present himself to Ren, show him what a good Omega he was for him, and how well he could obey his Alpha.

“Kriff,” he whispered. He’d been so careful with the counting of his cycles; how had this happened? He should not have inhaled that dust over the stall while he was already vulnerable. He shouldn’t have agreed to buy the vial, even if it had nothing to do with the predicament he was currently in. He shouldn’t have trusted Ren with the “if it happens, it happens, let the Force decide” attitude. As if the Force had any will of its own, a consciousness. It was just energy and Armitage shouldn’t be ruled by this mindless power.

He didn’t even notice when Ren left with Rea—he was just aware of the faint smell of Ren lingering on the coat that he’d placed over Hux. He heard the ship’s sliding door open, then close, and he curled up further on the floor, unhappy, worried about Rea and going almost blind from all the crazy feelings of pain mixed with yearning, a burning desire, the need to be filled up, the need to be mounted by his mate—the undignified _lust_.

He pressed his overheated cheek back to the durasteel floor and recited Empire war poetry in his head—the pieces he’d learnt in the Academy. He should get up, wash himself, drink some water because soon he’d be terribly dehydrated, but all he could do was roll on his stomach and hump the floor in the vain hope that it could give him some relief.

 

*

Hux was burning.

He was burning alive. If he had any strength left he’d wail from the strange ache that had overtaken his body. He tried to focus on the flow of the time, counting the ticks in the old chrono that had been installed over the cot in order to make the space more like home. Time had been slipping, stopping, leaving Armitage hanging over lava fields, then coming back like a wrecking ball, fast forward, with zaps to his brain. His body was melting, losing its shape, turning into a freeform blob left floating somewhere in the middle of the Galaxy. His breathing became shallow, his muscles so tight they shook even though he wasn’t even moving.

The lava fields slowed after a while, reducing their speed to a lazy river, but it didn’t make anything easier. If anything, it had heightened the torture. Armitage tried to think about Rea, tried to call out for Ren, but what would be the point of it.

Lightyears must have passed without Hux becoming any more lucid, when he heard the swoosh of the sliding door and Ren’s footsteps. At the sound Hux’s body spasmed, and he convulsed, producing even more slick, even though it shouldn’t have been possible to produce any more. He was drenched, lying in a pool of it. Stars, he must be so dehydrated already, no wonder he was hallucinating.

“Hey,” Ren said, crouching next to him. “I’m back. Why didn’t you move to the bed?”

“Ren,” Armitage rasped instead of answering. Wasn’t it obvious he was in no condition to move? “Are you sure that these _lilies_ were the same ones? That there wasn’t anything else in that stall?”

“I think so,” Ren said, placing his hand over Armitage’s forehead. “Don’t you feel the same as the last time?”

“I don’t know.” Armitage felt tears burn his eyes. “I don’t remember the previous one. It just _hurts_ so fucking much. Or itches. Or something. I can’t even describe it—it’s not like any sensation I’m used to.”

“Come on. Bed.” Ren reached under him and picked him up from the floor. “You’ll feel better once we’ve mated.” He turned toward their ship’s bedroom.

Despite the fog of pain and the vertigo that being kriffing _carried_ caused Armitage to feel, he managed to sneer loudly, “ _Mated_.”

“Had sex, fucked, made love—you choose, Hux.” He hoisted Armitage higher and scowled when Armitage didn’t exactly comply. “Come on, some effort would be nice, it’s affecting me too, you know?”

“What? Did you inhale the liliestoo?”

Ren rolled his eyes. “Not _lilie_ s. Your scent. You. You smell of slick and heat and ‘mine’ and I need to have you, knot you and mate you, or I’ll burst, okay? So, please stop wriggling so I can take your skinny ass to bed and fuck it.”

“Uh, _stars_ , it hurts, fuck.” Armitage kept repeating it, as if acknowledging it would make the pain go away. Ren half carried, half dragged him to their bed.

He tugged on Armitage’s trousers. “Oh, Force,” he said.

“What?” Armitage licked his lips. They were dry and cracked from how overheated and dehydrated his body already was.

“Just—look at it!”

Armitage did and—fuck—was that normal? He thought he must have used up all the water in his body, given the pool of slick he’d been lying in on the floor. But the slick was still trickling out of him, and so copiously it looked as if he was continuously wetting himself. More slick was running down his thighs in tiny rivulets. The sticky, sweet smell of it filled up the space.

Armitage whined when yet another cramp rippled through him and his body produced another splash of liquid.

“It feels like dying,” he whined, closing his eyes, not wanting to see the humiliating scene. “Or giving birth again. All the water... It’s just somehow backwards here. I don’t want to have it out of me, I want…” It was so humiliating. He needed to stop talking. He was babbling. His head was spinning. “I want you. So much.” He brushed his face over the inside of Ren’s arm like a feline. He really, really needed to stop talking. He was an embarrassment. He and Ren had never expressed feelings like that to each other, not even during sex. “I _need_ you.”

Ren chuckled. “You have me.”

Armitage shook his head. “No, I don’t. We’re just—co-parenting. We’re not… together. You don’t really want me. It’s just this _heat_ —”

Ren looked taken aback. He grabbed Armitage’s chin, making Armitage look into his eyes. “How can you say that? I’m yours and you are mine. My mate. My _love_.”

This last word Ren said with his typical intensity, but also gently, and Armitage let himself drown in this moment, for that brief second believing Ren, wanting to believe him, wanting to really be Ren’s. He wished they had met outside of the circumstances of their lives and destinies, that they had chosen one another for real, and had not been tossed together by a chaotic turn of events, and now connected to each other for life whether they wanted it or not because of Rea. It was just that weird fate too, that somehow they turned out to be quite good at it—at raising a child together, despite all odds—and the Galaxy seemed to agree. This is why they were still alive. This was their destiny, if there was such thing. Ren certainly believed it.

This was also why Armitage, despite not fully believing Ren, nodded and said, “Okay.” He let Ren kiss him and he moaned loudly when Ren scooted lower and pushed Armitage’s legs apart. Ren took a long, long lick, starting from Armitage’s calf and going up, up, up his leg to his inner thigh. He kept lapping at the slick in long laving caresses of his tongue.

“Stars, this taste,” he moaned, making Armitage squirm and grab for him. “You’ll feel good, soon,” he promised, hooking Armitage’s legs over his arms. “You’re so wet for me, so hot and open, I won’t even have to prepare you, will I?”

Sometime before, Armitage wasn’t sure when, Ren had gotten rid of their clothes, and now Ren’s huge dick was on display, hard and flushed and moist at the tip, twitching.

“I need to have you now, okay?” Ren said, as if Armitage had any way of saying “no” in his condition, as if he didn’t need it as much too.

The first thrust felt like a hot blade piercing Armitage, and he cried out. “Kriff,” he managed. “Yes. Go on. Go on, please.” He would beg Ren to move if he had to. His body was on fire, his bones were _melting_. “Please, come on.”

They didn’t last more than three or four thrusts after that, the knot suddenly swelling on Ren’s cock, taking them both by surprise and immobilizing them completely. The knot got bigger and bigger, to the point where Armitage thought that his body had finally reached its limit and cracked. And then he felt the throbbing inside of him and shuddered with his own release as Ren’s semen filled him up. All the pain Armitage had ever felt eased, giving place to pure bliss. His eyelashes were wet when he opened his eyes to look at Ren.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ren whispered, his arms around Armitage, bringing his face so close they were almost kissing. “I love your skin,” he ran his hand over Armitage’s arm, “your hair,” he nuzzled Armitage’s nape, “your mouth, even when you’re scowling, and you always do. And your sharp teeth,” he added when Armitage gently bit him on the finger. “I will fill you up to the brim with my seed,” Ren continued, his cock throbbing deep inside Armitage. “I’m going to put my baby in you.” The knot pulsed again with more release and Armitage started to believe every word that Ren said. “I’ll impregnate you. You’ll be so round with my baby again.” He stroked Armitage’s belly and then moved his hand up, to Armitage’s hair, pushing it off his forehead. “You are _mine_.”  

Armitage closed his eyes and let Ren’s words wash over him, carry him away from here and now. He should probably scoff, tell Ren he was his own master, that he wasn’t a possession, or a pet, but at the same time he deeply wished for it all to be real. He wished that Ren really thought all that, and wasn’t just babbling incoherently in the middle of his sex-haze, stupid with want and high on hormones. He wished that Ren would want him for real—not just because of Rea, or possibly another baby. He allowed one tear to spill and fall on the pillow, and then gave in to the feeling of blissful fullness lulling him to sleep in Ren’s arms.

*

When he woke again, he was still impaled on Ren’s dick, although the knot had eased, and when he wiggled a little Ren’s cock slowly slipped out of him with an obscene squelching sound. Everything was wet and sticky, and Armitage wrinkled his nose in distaste. He was disgusting, covered in sweat, slick, and semen. Ren was dead asleep, snoring loudly, but when Armitage made an attempt to get up, he awoke.

“What do you need?” he asked, blinking at Armitage. It never ceased to amaze Armitage how incredibly beautifully warm Ren’s eyes could look. He remembered the times when he was sure that Ren’s eyes were pure black—dangerous and mad, menacing. He now knew all the shades Ren’s irises could take: light brown when he was calm and relaxed, cooking for them or resting after training outside; amber with flecks of green when he was playing with Rea in the morning sun on the wooden floor of their forest cabin; deep brown with pupils blown wide, darkened with desire when they fucked in the night. Now, they reminded Hux of molten cane sugar, sweet and rich, beautiful.

“I… uh…” He needed to go to the bathroom, to clean himself, but he also felt that he needed to get fucked again, his insides already twisting again, making him thrust up with his hips, searching for another release, craving to be filled up. His mouth was dry. He felt a drop of blood on his lower lip, where his lips had cracked when he attempted to speak. Ren’s gaze dropped to his lips and he leaned forward to lick the coppery drop gently out of Armitage’s mouth.

“I’ll bring you some water,” he said, and rolled to get up. His cock was heavy and thick between his thighs, some of the semen dried up and flaked on his thighs now where it must have trickled out of Armitage. Somehow it made Armitage swallow thickly, while he tried to tamp down an emotion he couldn’t name.

Armitage looked up at the cracked ceiling of their ship. Some of the paint and chrome was beginning to flake, and soon it would resemble Ben Solo’s nightmarish ship that the girl had stolen more than the property of a former First Order officer. But Armitage was not going to complain. He kind of liked this piece of junk, as rattled and damaged as it was. This was where Rea had taken her first steps. They had jumped from one world to another so many times in this ship already, that sometimes it felt more like home than any of the safe houses they had used over the last two years.

Ren emerged from the back of the ship, holding a tall steel tumbler. He sat heavily on the bed and wiped his face with his free hand. He looked really tired despite the sleep—perhaps knotting someone did that to the body.

“Here,” Ren said, pushing the tumbler with water into Armitage’s hands. Armitage made a face—he hated water from steel and Ren damn well knew it. Still, he drank the water, all of it, then handed the cup back to Ren, who rolled his eyes before placing it on the floor.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked, but Armitage shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to stomach anything now. What he really wanted was to _mate_ again. He looked down at his sticky legs.

“Ugh, I’m disgusting.”

“No, you’re not.” Ren leaned over him, nuzzling his face over Armitage’s skin. He nibbled his stomach and then dipped lower to lick the inside of his thigh. “You’re delicious.”

Armitage closed his eyes. Oh, how he wanted to give in to this feeling and let Ren lick him clean and then fuck again and again. But he had to be civilized. Against his instincts and need, he gathered all the strength he still had in him and gently pushed Ren away.

“I’m going to shower,” he said.

“Can I join you?” Ren looked up from between his thighs with his soulful dark eyes, intense but playful, and Armitage’s heart skipped a beat.

“Just give me a moment to clean myself.”

He stood there, under a light stream of water—they didn’t have much fresh water in storage, but he really disliked sonic—trying to breathe through the haze of lust that was taking over his mind again. All he could think about was Ren: Ren’s strong arms, his massive thighs, his chest, his huge, huge dick; but also Ren’s mouth, that was made to be kissed and ravished, always pouty and soft, blurred at the edges; Ren’s nose, prominent, elegant, that Armitage wanted to sit on to claim it; Ren’s ridiculous huge ears that he wanted to lick and bite; Ren’s crooked teeth… He needed to get back to Ren and get fucked again, but what he also wanted was for Ren to claim him totally, put his big hands around Armitage’s throat and bite his neck deep, deep, marking him as his forever.

“Fucking Omega genes,” he cursed, spitting the words out along with the water. He was going insane with this heat.

“I plan on fucking this Omega, yes.” Ren laughed, stepping behind Armitage in the shower. “Scoot over, I’m sticky and smelly too, and you’re using up all the water again.” The shower was way too small for two tall people to fit, and Armitage had to be almost pressed to the wall in order to accommodate Ren, but somehow he didn’t mind. He let himself lean back, supported by Ren, and soon enough he felt Ren’s hands lathering him with soap and massaging away some of the pain from his tense shoulders and neck. When Ren moved his hands away, Armitage whined in protest and leaned back further.

“You’re such a needy little Omega,” Ren said, chuckling, to which Hux hissed, offended. But he moaned with gratitude when Ren’s hands returned, slick with the baby oil they kept under the shower for Rea, now used for a very different purpose as Ren slowly dipped his fingers in between Armitage’s cheeks and rubbed it into his hole.

“Does it hurt?” Ren asked, kissing Armitage’s neck. Armitage tilted his head to the side to give him better access, and spread his legs to accommodate more of Ren’s fingers inside.

“No.” Waves of desire were again flowing though his body, wrecking him. He _needed_ , desperately needed to be filled up. He needed Ren’s cock inside of him.

“It seems a bit… puffy,” Ren said, and finally closed his mouth over Armitage’s neck, biting down lightly.

 _Fuck._ Armitage’s legs gave out, and if it weren’t for Ren’s arms around him, Armitage would have fallen down.

“Ren, please,” Armitage whispered. “Please.”

“What do you need?” Ren asked, pushing his fingers a little deeper into Armitage’s hole. Ren’s cock was digging into Armitage’s thigh now, hard as a rock again.

“Fuck me.” Armitage braced himself against the shower wall. The water had nearly run out by now, and the final droplets were trickling from the showerhead.

Ren shuddered but then shook his head and withdrew his fingers. “Not here. I won’t be able to knot you like this. Come on.”

They didn’t even use towels. Instead they moved quickly to the bed, dripping water and falling onto the filthy sheets.

“On your stomach,” Ren commanded, pushing Armitage down. He kneeled behind Armitage and once again thrust deep inside him, all the way up to the hilt, without preparation.

 _Stars, stars_ , Armitage chanted in his mind. _Stars_.

He was lost to the sensation of being filled up again, and fucked fast and hard, so hard that he was being pushed up the bed to the wall. He tried to get up on his hands and knees but only managed to push his hips up a bit and press his face to the mattress, the sheets muffling his noises. Ren grabbed his hips, and there would be bruising for days to come from that harsh hold, but Armitage moaned with pleasure at the thought.

“You know,” he gasped in between thrusts. “You know how in those ancient Alpha and Omega cultures, how they… ngh.”

“How they what, Hux?” Ren asked when Armitage lost his train of thought, whining now with each thrust of Ren’s hips.

Armitage swallowed and said in one breath, “How the Alpha would bite his Omega to mark him?”

Ren stopped moving. The silence in the ship was almost oppressive, buzzing in Armitage’s ears along with his racing pulse.

“You want me to… what? Mark you?”

The buzzing in Armitage’s ears didn’t stop. His face must have been so red, as he licked his lips and said softly, almost non-audibly, “Yes. Yes, I want that.”

Ren’s grip on Armitage’s hips tightened. The bruises would be painful.

“You’re not in the right frame of mind to ask for something like that. You’d be wearing a scar in the shape of my teeth forever on your body.” Ren sounded offended, or hurt even, as if Armitage was taunting him and was going to take away something precious.

“Please,” Armitage said. It sounded weak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Please, Ren.”

Ren leaned over him, grabbed him around his chest,and hauled him up so they were both on their knees now, bodies pressed close to each other. Ren’s hand closed around Armitage’s neck as he resumed his thrusting.

“Okay,” he said hotly, straight into Armitage’s ear. “Okay.”

Ren’s cock was like a fiery rod inside Armitage. It felt as if he was being speared, impaled on a thick sword, his whole body singing with each push. And then he felt it—the knot swelling again deep inside of him, binding them together.

“Ah,” he gasped. “I’m so full, oh Stars. Ren.” He opened his mouth and tried to breathe. Tears spilled from his eyes. Ren’s fingers slid up from his neck and he caught them with his mouth, sucking on them, wanting to be filled in every possible way.

Ren’s breath was hot on his skin as he bared his throat for him even more, allowing Ren to kiss his neck with wet, openmouthed insistent pecks. And then Ren’s teeth closed over his skin, biting deep and hard, and pain shot through him, making him blind for a moment. A few things happened at the same time: Armitage cried out and spilled over the bed, Ren’s teeth sank even deeper into Armitage’s skin, and the knot inside Armitage swelled and locked them, spilling seed fast.

They stayed on their knees, breathing hard but immobile for a long while, and then Ren eased them both down, his cock still locked in place, until they were lying on the bed, spooning, and Ren licked over the bite mark on Armitage’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Ren said, licking again. “It’s… I lost control there. I’ll get you some bacta as soon as I can move.”

“It’s all right,” Armitage said, because he didn’t want any kriffing bacta. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted it to scar him. He relished the throbbing pain of it now. It felt like _I want you for real_. It felt like _I love you_.

 

*

It was morning when Armitage woke up next. The planet’s two suns were already high up, illuminating everything in the ship in sandy beige tones through the viewports and heating up the interior. He was well rested, finally sated, the pain and blind desire mostly gone, leaving only a pleasant ache and the energy to get fucked again without the all-consuming need. The bruise on his neck where Ren had bit him throbbed a little, but he welcomed this sensation, a reminder of all the desire and intimacy, a feeling of _belonging_ somewhere in the world.

However, he was also alone. There was only a stain from where the sperm must have trickled out of him when Ren got up and left him in bed.

“Ren?” Armitage said aloud. “Ren?”

Nothing. Armitage sighed. He had really hoped for some morning sex, maybe a bit more peaceful than the night before. He was still in heat after all, even if the blind lust had eased, and they had daytime sex so rarely now with Rea being constantly around.

The steel tumbler had been refilled and placed on the floor next to the bed, so he gulped down the water despite the metallic taste.

He got up, huffing in annoyance when more seed mixed with slick trickled down his legs. He had to use the sonic shower because there was no more water in the tank, but he cleaned himself up as well as he could and brushed his teeth. In the mirror he looked wrecked. There were deep purple shadows underneath his eyes, the kind he hadn’t had since Rea was really small. His skin was covered in red patches and bruises, and his beard was growing out. He touched the bite mark Ren had left—it was puffy and reddened, painful to the touch, so reluctantly he reached for some bacta gel so he could cover it with a thin layer to prevent inflammation. He still wanted it to scar, for the mark to remain; he guessed that his stupid Omega instincts called for it. As if he needed a remainder of all the fucking they had done, he still felt wet, sticky, and loose, as if his joints had been rearranged.

His stomach grumbled and he went to the kitchenette, which held basic food for them and Rea. There was a bottle of blue milk and vanilla oat cereal that Rea liked, but Armitage wasn’t sure he knew how to prepare a meal out of it, so he took a protein bar instead and then heated some water for tea. With his hair combed, face shaved, and in fresh clothes, he felt more or less human again.

By the time Ren came back it was nearing late afternoon. Armitage had managed to change the sheets on their bed, wipe the floors, recalibrate their ship’s computer, drink his tea, eat another protein bar, and he was running out of things to do when the door finally swooshed open again.

“Daddy!” Rea exclaimed and ran into his arms. “Look, glandma toy fol Lea!” She held up a plush furry toy that looked like a miniature Ewok. Armitage pulled Rea into his lap and kissed her black curls, inhaling her scent. Stars, it was good to have her back. He gave her another squeeze.

Ren looked bashful. “Sorry I left you, but I sensed you were more or less over this craze, and I thought you’d feel better having her back with us.”

What Ren didn’t say was that he didn’t trust his mother either. Armitage decided not to acknowledge it. They would have this conversation some other time without Rea around.

“So, it was all fine?” he asked instead.

“Yes. I’ll tell you everything later,” Ren said, placing his head in the ship’s conservator in search of food. “Have you eaten?”

Armitage shrugged. “Some protein bars.”

“Because you’d rather lose a limb than try to cook, huh?” Ren hummed around a bar he took out too. “Fuck, these are so disgusting, why do we keep buying them?”

“Because they contain all the important proteins, vitamins and minerals?”

Ren swallowed the bar and chased it with blue milk straight from the container. He burped loudly, and Rea giggled and tried to imitate the burping sound too. Armitage hugged her closer and closed his eyes for a moment. All was good.

He wanted it to stay this way.

*

Waves of nausea were wracking Armitage’s body for the third day in a row now. It was getting worse and worse—today he couldn’t even drink his tea anymore, and he’d thrown up the morning oatmeal Ren prepared for him, concerned for Armitage’s health.

Armitage pulled himself up from the floor and leaned over the sink to wash his mouth and face. He looked into his own eyes in the mirror. He should finally confirm what he’d already suspected for days. He took out a testing kit he’d stored deep in the lowest drawer and punctured his finger, waiting the five seconds it took for the result to show. Not breathing. The light blinked green, signaling pregnancy. The mixture of happiness, fear, despair, excitement, and some other feeling that he connected to protectiveness made him dizzy again. His hands shook when he left the bathroom and his pulse raced like a herd of Fathiers.

Rea was napping, curled up on the cot, and Ren was tinkering with the cooking droid Leia had gotten them as “a gift for Rea, so my granddaughter doesn’t eat like a Stormtrooper.” Ren had agreed to accept the gift, but since he didn’t trust the droid he decided to “fix” it, instead of leaving it to Armitage who actually _knew something_ about engineering.

“Ren,” Armitage said, willing his hands to still.

“Hm?” Ren hummed, not looking up. He seemed annoyed with the droid, his pent-up energy swirling in the air around them in an almost palpable way, and Armitage was sure that they were mere seconds away from Ren throwing the droid into a wall. Some things never changed, after all.

“Ren, I’m pregnant,” Armitage said. “Or, at least, I think I am.”

Ren looked up. For some reason he didn’t look as happy as Armitage had predicted. Instead he looked troubled, or maybe apologetic as he bit his lower lip and blinked up at Hux. “I know,” he said.

Of course. Of course, Ren would know. He could sense it. Probably Rea could sense it too, and Armitage was the last person in this household to know about it! “Thank you for telling me, then,” Hux snapped. “You probably know the sex of the baby already too, don’t you?”

Ren looked down, his cheeks coloring, and he bit his lower lip again. He looked troubled, and suddenly Armitage felt very sick.

“Is it okay?” he asked, trying to not let the tremor into his voice and failing. “Is something wrong with it?”

Ren shook his head. “No, no. All’s well, as far as I can tell. It’s just that…”

Armitage took a breath. “Spit it out!” He didn’t have the patience for this.

“You know how my mother and Skywalker were twins?”

Armitage sat down on the edge of the couch. “Oh, fucking hell.”

 _Ren had impregnated him with kriffing twins._ Because, of course he had. Armitage didn’t know if he should laugh and feel relieved that the baby—babies—were okay, or if he should go back to the bathroom to throw up again. He covered his face with his hand. “Fucking hell,” he repeated.

Ren got up from the floor, leaving the droid and the tools where they were. Armitage was sure they’d still be there a week later.

“We’ll manage,” Ren said, sitting next to Armitage.

“Will we, though?” Armitage asked. He really wasn’t sure. Kids needed a network of support, and all they had with Rea was each other.

“My mother can help. She said that if we ever have more babies—”

Armitage waved to silence Ren. He didn’t want to hear about the meeting with his mother again. He still didn’t believe in Leia’s earnest intentions, and he very much doubted he’d trust her ever in the future, and especially not with his children.

Ren sighed. “Armitage, stop this. I don’t have to use the Force to know where your mind is going right now. Just—stop. It doesn’t have to be my mother. We’ll—I’ll stop opposing MU-20, all right? We’ll be fine.”

He sat down on the couch, pullling Armitage onto his lap, and reluctantly Armitage went with it, his anger and distrust evaporating almost as quickly as it had appeared. He let himself sink into Ren’s embrace. He could curse his Omega instincts to hell and back, but he couldn’t deny that he felt safe with Ren around. That he felt good knowing that Ren cared about their little Universe. That he didn’t really believe that Ren would ever betray him and Rea.

This thought was something that occurred suddenly and astounded him. Never in his whole life Armitage had trusted anyone—not even Rae Sloane, who’d saved him when he was a little malnourished wild child leading a herd of young murderers. But now, as he closed his eyes, his body relaxing as Ren stroked his arms, he thought that this was it—this was what he’d been yearning for since forever. Nothing mattered anymore, just this.

He chuckled. If he told his past-self that one day he’d be sitting on Kylo Ren’s lap, their daughter curled up close, her soft breathing like the most soothing music, and two more babies growing in him, and that he’d be _happy_ with it all, he would be the first to pull the trigger of the blaster on his delusional mind. He was no one, not a Leader, not a General, not even an engineer anymore, if one didn’t count him fixing their home appliances or ships—he was just… human.

 _So be it,_ he thought, smiling, and he turned his head to kiss Ren. They were a family. And, despite all odds, they were choosing each other.

And they still had a good hour before Rea would wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for waiting for me and for all your lovely comments! <3  
> PS. You have to thank Kyluxtrashcompactor for the twins idea ;)


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